Connections
by Jhiz
Summary: An inter-dimensional vortex spell rips an already distressed Buffy from her own world and thrusts her into an equally dangerous one. Connections with friends, old and new, will be the only way to return the Slayer home. Question is will she want to return?
1. Chapter 1

"You're sure this will work?" Warren demanded as he pushed his way past his inept blonde cohort to stare over the shoulder of the short magic user. The most aggressive member of the Trio frowned skeptically at the dingy liquid in the large beaker.

"Uh, yeah... it'll work," Jonathan promised as he glanced nervously one more time at his spell book. He shifted the murky fluid filled container onto the flat top of a rigged electrical box. The small, dark haired nerd then dropped a small metal bar thinly coated in plastic into the mix and flipped the switch on the side panel of the recently assembled machine. Inside the machine, a strong magnet began to circle. The spinning, polarized piece of machinery forced the tiny bar in the bottom of the beaker to shift in a tight circle. With a flick of his wrist, Jonathan increased the speed of the spinning device until the murky fluid began to swirl. He mumbled a few words in Latin over the stirring mixture before once more increasing the speed of the machine.

By now, the fluid in the beaker resembled a whirlpool. Liquid streamed up the edges of the glass and a void developed in the center. Jonathan briefly smiled at how well his make-shift stirring machine worked. It beat having to mix the fluid that represented the unknown universes by hand.

The excited geek picked up a pair of large tweezers in one hand and a recently opened petri dish holding a tiny charm from a necklace in the other. He looked over his shoulder at his blond friend.

"Andrew, you're positive that the Slayer was the last person to touch this jewelry?" he confirmed one last time.

The blonde nodded. He had slipped into the house on Revello Drive just a few days ago and stolen the charm off the chain Buffy wore most days. The light haired nerd had carefully snagged the piece with his own set of tweezers and slipped it into the petri dish for safe keeping.

"Ok... then here goes," Jonathan nervously stated as he lifted the charm over the swirling fluid. He muttered a few more words in Latin then dropped the charm into the beaker.

Nothing noticeable happened.

"Did it work?" Warren demanded as Jonathan hit the switch to turn off his mixing machine.

"Yep," his companion replied.

The larger male slapped his small friend on the shoulder.

"Excellent. Lets plan some mayhem," Warren chucked.

* * *

><p>One would think that if you wanted to succeed in a greater necromantic ritual, the bad guys would choose to find a better location than an easily accessible cemetery in my city. I'll be the first to admit that I was attached to my hometown and it tended to irk me when folks try to destroy part of it with their nefarious schemes. It made me a bit grumpy and a grumpy wizard was not a good enemy to have.<p>

Having established my foul mood and my wizard-ness, it made perfect sense that the bad guys should have found an alternative site for this spell but luckily for me and the alternative site, they didn't. So here I stood late in the evening on a Tuesday, facing down the undead in all the glory of a cliched dime store horror novel. Darkness, old tombstones, an imposing crypt, a blood sacrifice, or well more accurately three sacrifices, screaming helplessly from inside the stone building and approaching midnight all contributed to the sad attempt.

Not to say that their plans were not evil or that the bad guys did not have a good chance of causing some death and destruction. It's just that on a normal night, a small scourge of Black Court vampires out in the relative openness of a graveyard would not pose much of a threat for me. A little fire ball, a little decapitation level force blast, maybe some blessed water balloons and boom, no more vamps. Unfortunately, tonight was not a typical night. I'm not sure when Chicago decided to welcome a monsoon season but it seemed that tonight was the first day of its new status as a city of tropical water storms.

It was terribly unfair that I was standing outside in the pouring rain while whoever was casting the ritual was inside the large stone structure just few yards from my position. He or she was perfectly dry and comfortable while I was soaked. In fact, I suspected my boots actually had more water than feet in them and my duster, though normally a great protection from the elements, hung like a soppy dragging mess around my body. Not exactly comfortable. Granted, it wasn't winter rain. It was bathtub temperature water which is a far cry better than some of the bitterly cold freezing rain we can get swooping from the north and across the lake in the winter. It lacked that kind of bite. That didn't mean it wasn't biting me in the ass anyway.

You see, water messed with my magic. Yeah, sure, I have the force of will to cast a mean flaming wall of destruction in a fog or even a bit of snow flurry. I can hold a successful focus almost indefinitely for a location spell as I trudge through a light drizzle with only a minor headache. Hell, I've even held a few major spells for a few moments in the middle of a snow storm or under fire sprinklers with only a minor stabbing migraine. What I can't do is toss about death and destruction on some undead in the middle of a downpour that was dumping not just buckets but entire tubs continuously over both me and my enemies. The magic just fizzled. Case in point, my last fire spell had barely scorched the current vampire advancing on me. The flame had issued in a flashing burn from my staff but died to smoking ruin leaving me with a blinding headache and churning guts.

The dried lips of my closest opponent pulled back in a mocking grin and raspy laughter crept through the darkness as it mocked my offensive attempt.

In response, I pulled my handgun from the pocket of my coat and shot it in the center of its body. The gloating vampire staggered back from the force of the bullet but it was only a temporary reprieve. The damn thing shook off the injury like the dead body it was. If it had been a Red or White Court vampire, the gut shot would have been more effective. Against the corpse body of a Black Court vampire? I might have well been blowing bubbles at it. Or hitting it with a barrel of monkeys or pick up sticks. I shook my head once. Sadly, the pick up sticks might be a bit more effective than the gun. Like in the Dracula movies, improvised stakes work on Black Court vamps.

Behind me, I hear my four legged backup issue a warning growl. There are at least three vamps approaching from that direction and although Mouse is more than your average dog, I'm not sure even he can take three vamps in the quick succession that was gonna be needed if we ever hoped to save the still screaming hostages before the midnight hour of doom.

Of further note, it won't really matter how many vamps my overgrown lapdog can munch if I don't survive my own opponent. Mr. Happy cackles creepily at me one more time before launching himself at my throat. To say the Black Court vamps are fast was like saying Walter Payton played football. True but no where near the full spectrum picture of their blinding speed or Sweetness' skills as a running back. The only thing that saved my neck was the instinctive strike of my staff that caught him mid dive. The vampire took the blow without complaint but it sailed away from the force of the physical strike. I am by no means a small man and Black Court vamps are basically dried up dead guys. Lots of speed but little weight in their undead bodies. The bloodthirsty body flew a good ten feet before it hit a large tombstone with a sharp crack. The vamp shuddered on impact before it reoriented itself on me. It shifted into motion once again.

I was preparing for its next attack when an unexpected projectile slammed into my body.

Now, I have had a number of things chucked at me in the middle of a battle. Rocks, bullets, spells and even flaming poo but I would have to say this was the first time having a naked woman tossed violently into my arms in the middle of battle. Especially one whose pupils were blown wide in ecstasy, was screaming some other guy's name and was writhing in the tail end of what must have been one hell of an earth shattering orgasm. It was a once in a lifetime experience.

With my gun in one hand and my staff in the other, I really was not prepared to catch her petite form. She slammed into my soaked chest and I staggered back. She was still lost in release and I was just as lost in surprise. My moment of distraction cost us. Well, actually, it cost her. The vamp that I had previously been facing landed its attack. Although the claw swipe was short of a killing blow because the woman's arrival had driven me back a step, it still caught the naked stranger across her shoulder and ripped deep furrows in her skin and into the muscle. Her eyes instantly lost their pleasured haze and she screamed in pain.

Guilt drove its fist into my gut. I might not have expected her to fall into my arms but she had just taken a vicious wound meant for me. I dropped my gun and attempted to sweep my arm protectively around her before the vampire could launch a second attack. Before my gun even hit the ground, she was already gone from my arms. She twisted free with a speed to match the Black Court vampire and launched herself at its undead form. For the second time in just a few heartbeats, I was floored with shock. The tiny little blonde blocked a claw swing that I could barely see and followed with a blow to the vampire's face that shattered its jaw.

The naked woman moved like a natural predator. All efficient movements and deadly grace. One moment she was trading blows with the vampire and the next, she was wrenching it's head from its body. My mouth might have fallen open in amazement even as I scrambled to retrieve my dropped gun but I was not about to admit it. With the forward threat resolved, I turned to the enemies at my back. Mouse had one on the ground and was tearing at its throat with his powerful jaws. That one was good as dead. I raised my gun and aimed at the nearest vamp. The bullets might not kill it but it would slow it down for a moment.

I pulled the trigger as I attempted to gather my will to attempt another spell. Suddenly, my staff was ripped from my grasp as the naked blonde claimed it as her own as she rushed past me. The petite warrior threw herself at the closest vampire. My staff, which was almost a foot taller than she was, blurred as strike after precision strike connected with the undead corpse. The warrior drew the staff back and parallel to the ground before slamming it into the chest of the vampire. She yanked it free and immediately set her sites on the vampire I had wounded with my gun.

Figuring my new and unexpected ally had things well in hand, I rushed towards the crypt. Although terror-filled screams are not the most pleasant thing to hear, I was glad the cries were still echoing inside the stone building. It meant the sacrifices were still alive and I still had time to stop the ritual.

I clamored through the open door of the crypt. Raising my gun, I emptied the rest of my bullets into the gut of the remaining vampire. The belly of lead effectively distracted the chanting undead sorcerer from his spell and gave me time to kick over the ritual candles that where spread at the five points of the blood drawn pentagram on the floor. The vampire staggered against the nearest marble wall. It hissed in rage at me before launching itself for the supposed safety and freedom of the door.

I spared a glance for the three crying hostages huddled against the far wall before following the vampire. Although frightened, none of them seemed injured so it was more important that I ensure that the escaping vampire was truly dead. That would ensure it took no future victims. Exiting back into the torrential downpour, I was just in time to watch the fleeing corpse meet its doom on the end of my staff at the hands of the tiny blonde.

She seemed lost for a moment as she stared at the dead corpse still stuck on the gory end of my staff. Her nose wrinkled slightly in disgust at the dead body. It was almost like she didn't expect the corpse to still be skewered on the end of the weapon. I was definitely going to need some serious cleaning on that staff before I used it again. The little warrior shook the dead body off the end of the weapon. She glanced around the graveyard as if determining that all the threats were gone. Her eyes paused only momentarily on Mouse before they continued their circuit. They paused again when they reached me but then quickly shifted away to check the remaining section of the cemetery.

Utterly enthralled by her presence, I stared at her the entire time. She seemed to radiate a heady power that called to me. Through the downpour, I could see her chest heaving as she attempted to catch her ragged breath. I watched for a heartbeat as she dropped my staff and wrapped her arms around her shaking body. My own adrenaline rush dropped and my body suddenly reminded me that there were other hormones finding this situation interesting. I couldn't help myself. My eyes slid appreciatively over her naked form.

Holy Moley.

Even from this distance, she was a sight to see. Angry at myself for not resisting the shameless call of her exposed skin, I mentally kicked myself for staring like a hormonal teenager. The little blonde swayed and I finally convinced my body that my mind was actually in charge. I rushed through the rain towards her form as she crumbled to the ground. Mouse beat me. He was gently nudging her neck with his nose when I reached them.

He looked up at me and whined before returning his nose to the skin along the edge of her hairline.

"Damn," I cussed as I saw the blood flowing down her back and staining the ground in a light pink haze. I had completely forgotten the injury in the rush of the battle. I fumbled with my coat until it slid to the ground and I yanked off my equally soaked t-shirt. Pressing the shirt onto the long wound, I hoped it would be enough to slow the blood loss.

The blonde groaned and I glanced nervously around the graveyard. After battle patchwork was not my expertise. I grabbed my duster and wrapped it around her body. I pulled it tight across her back and hoped that the tension would keep the pressure on the make-shift bandage. I lifted her slight form into my arms. She was surprisingly light. I stared at her for a moment as she whimpered in pain and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

"You'll be okay," I promised her as I headed towards the crypt. I needed to ensure that the three hostages got out of their confinement then I could get her medical treatment. "I'll get you to the hospital real soon and they can patch you right up."

"No hospital," she muttered as she shifted her head to rest more comfortably on my bare shoulder. I juggled her slightly to better distribute her weight then shuffled towards the stone monument. Without a command, Mouse sunk his teeth around the center of my staff and happily trotted behind us with his tail wagging.

In a few minutes, we were all marching through the rain like a bizarre parade. One shirtless drowned rat of a wizard, three sniffling would be sacrifice victims, a pony sized, soaked dog with a six foot stick in its mouth and one tiny little blonde curled like a child against my chest. All we needed was some music. A faint smile tugged at the side of my mouth. Who said nothing exciting ever happens on weekday nights?


	2. Chapter 2

The front door of Revello drive slammed open with a force that rattled the walls and cracked the door's window plates in several places.

"WITCH!" shrieked an enraged voice that startled awake the teenager peacefully sleeping in her bed upstairs and frightened said witch who was preparing a cup of tea in the kitchen. The red haired Wicca jumped at the unexpected intrusion and dropped the tea kettle and her mug. The heated metal teapot hit the counter where it tipped and began spilling its boiling contents across the surface. The mug caught the edge of the Formica top and toppled to the linoleum. The ceramic cup split into pieces and scattered its wet contents and sharp shards across the frightened girl's slipper clad feet. Willow yipped in fear and jumped back to avoid being burned by the water.

She barely had time to turn towards the front of the house when the screaming invader had roughly grabbed her by the arms.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HER!" he desperately yelled as he shook the young woman violently.

As her brain seemed to rattle in her head, her attacker screamed. He dropped his grip on her shoulders and grabbed his head instead.

"BLOODY HELL!" the bleached blonde shouted as his eyes crossed when the pain in his head only added to his panic. The chip the government had placed in his skull to curtail his aggressive tendencies and blood lusts sharply reminded the irate vampire that he was not allowed to enforce his will physically on someone no matter how justified he believed the attack.

"Spike?" called Dawn from the entrance way to the kitchen. The young teenager rubbed at her eyes and nervously picked at the rumpled edge of her pajama top. The vampire's panicked and loud arrival had dragged her from deep sleep. The disoriented girl felt an edge of panic grip her own thoughts. Whatever happened had to be bad to have her favorite bloodsucker in such a state. Dawn's eyes widened and the panic erupted like a volcano when she actually noticed their uninvited guest's physical state.

Spike looked like he just finished a brawl. His normally slicked back hair was a chaotic mess, a riot of curls sticking in all directions. Only one of his heavy boots was properly tied. Instead of his normal dark t-shirt, open dress shirt and duster paired with dark jeans, the vampire was shirtless. Dawn made a soft intake of breath as she noticed the abrasions on his shoulders and arms. His back was covered with a collection of deep scratches that started near his spine below his shoulder blades and traveled down at an angle towards his slim hips. A couple of the claw marks were deep enough that they were still lightly bleeding.

The distraught vampire whipped around to face Dawn.

"Whoa," the teen muttered when she saw his chest was just as damaged. He had twin sets of claw marks traveling from his shoulders, over his chest and finally ending on his stomach. She blushed slightly and lowered her eyes when she realized that she was staring at his body. The teen had been not so secretly crushing on the partially naked vampire for a while and seeing him without his shirt made her feel funny in her tummy. Shaking away the distracting feeling, Dawn glanced at Spike's face. She almost wished she hadn't. The anguish in his expression was frightening. It reminded the teen too much of the past summer when Buffy was gone and nothing felt right.

"What's wrong?" she asked timidly. Her sister and her friends might treat her like a kid but the teen knew something was definitely out of whack. Spike was one of the most emotional people she knew and the anguish reflected in his eyes and expression could only mean imminent disaster. Dawn's blue eyes swept from Spike's face and around the kitchen.

Willow had moved to place the center island between herself and Spike. She was shaking as she leaned against the counter and avoided making eye contact with the teen. Dawn snorted. She was still angry at the witch for the magic incident that led to her still injured arm and the teen refused to be concerned with the older girl's current feelings.

Dawn continued glancing around the kitchen. Fear stabbed into her guts which escalated her own panic feelings when she realized who was missing from this scenario. It was late enough that the Slayer should have been not only done with work but also finished with patrol.

"Where's Buffy?" she whispered as her eyes flew to meet Spike's gaze. The vampire lowered his eyes to the floor.

"WHERE IS MY SISTER?" she yelled when no one responded.

Her voice went from demanding to sounding like a lost little child. She reached out to touch the vampire's arm. He flinched at the featherlight contact when she repeated her question in a soft and scared tone.

"Don't rightly know, Nibblet," Spike finally admitted after he took a deep and utterly unneeded breath. "Figured Red could tell me," he added as he nodded his head towards the still silent witch.

Willow twitched nervously when two sets of blue eyes centered their attention on her. Her knuckles whitened as she pressed her hands against the counter top as if its solid surface could offer her strength. Everything seemed so pressured lately and the college student wasn't always sure that she could handle the weight. On top of that, she was seriously tired of everyone blaming her for everything. She might be a powerful witch but she didn't control the world.

"I have no clue where Buffy is," Willow replied defensively even though she wasn't sure why Spike was glaring at her like he wanted to tear off her head. Reflexively, she gulped before adding that she hadn't seen Buffy all day.

"Maybe she's patrolling?" Dawn offered as she moved into the kitchen. She pulled out one of the stools by the island and perched on the top.

"Your sis ain't patrolling, Bit. She's gone."

Dawn frowned. Spikes answer made no sense to the teen.

"Gone where?"

"HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW?" Spike growled so loudly that both Dawn and Willow jumped in fright.

The frustrated vampire was back to practically shaking with distress. He gulped more unnecessary air and ran both hands through his hair leaving deep furrows in his already messy curls. He closed his eyes and concentrated on reeling in his anger. It took him a few moments, but Spike finally composed himself enough to speak in a more normal tone. Although in the past he would have reveled in their fear, the vampire realized that scaring either girl wasn't conducive to finding the answers he so desperately needed.

"I don't know where Buffy went. I just know that she is gone and not gone as in walked out the door either. Gone as in POOF."

His hands snapped together to sharply clap at the same time he said poof and the girls startled once again.

"One minute she's there and the next, nothing. Just gone."

Spike swung his head back towards Willow and glared at her as if she was obviously to blame.

Willow's green eyes widened almost comically and she waved her hands in front of her body when she finally realized why the vampire seemed intent on her immediate doom.

"No. No way," she clamored. "I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. I am all with the no magic girl right now."

Her audience stared at her with disbelief and distrust evident in both their expressions.

Tears prickled in her eyes and a lump formed in the back of her throat. Dawn's look of betrayal hurt. Willow acutely missed the adoration the younger girl used to freely offer. Although she didn't exactly regret her magic use, she did regret the recent losses in her life that seemed caused by the magic. Dawn's affection was one of those loses. Even though she would never consider the chipped vampire a friend, his harsh opinion pricked at her too. The witch sighed. She grabbed a hand towel and bent to clean up the spilled water and tea as a way of avoiding meeting either accusatory expression.

"So you haven't done anything witch-y tonight?" Dawn pressed incredulously.

Willow pressed her lips together. She tossed the sopping towel into the sink and slapped the tea kettle onto the counter with a bit more force than needed.

"No. No spells. No incantations."

She waved her arm towards a pile of text books and notebooks beside Dawn's elbow.

"I was studying for a poli-sci exam," she defended.

Dawn wrapped her arms around her chest. Her voice wavered as she asked what they could do to find Buffy. All three late night companions stared hopelessly at each other in silence as they each scrambled for some course of action.

"Maybe a locator spell?" Dawn offered quietly.

Willow flinched slightly and the teen was quick to cover the implied expectation that the older girl cast the spell.

"I could call Tara. I know its late and she is probably sleeping and she has classes in the morning and all but it's Buffy. She'd want to help."

If possible, Willow looked even more upset at the mention of her recently estranged girlfriend than she had at being accused of magicking the Slayer somewhere. Spike noticed the change in expression. He turned to Dawn and touched her elbow.

"Good idea, Nibblet. Why don't you go call her," he prodded as he nodded towards the living room.

Dawn hopped from her seat and scurried from the kitchen even though there was an extension in the room. She was quick enough to realize that the vampire wanted a moment alone with Willow and she didn't mind giving him what he silently requested. She was too worried about her sister to build up the energy to protest. Spike waited until she was gone before turning back to the witch.

"You really didn't do any spells tonight?" he pressed one last time to the red head who was now kneeling to clean up the broken mug shards.

"No Spike. I didn't do anything," she replied in a defeated tone.

"Okay," the vampire answered as he grabbed the trashcan and held it towards the witch. Willow glanced at the tilted bin and then met his gaze. She murmured a soft thanks as she placed the broken pieces of ceramic in the can. She took a steadying breath. It wasn't much of a peace offering but she would take it. At this moment, she needed every little bit of help she could get.

* * *

><p>After some fancy maneuvering to get the door of the Blue Beetle open without dropping my seemingly unconscious bundle, I carefully settled the little blonde stranger onto the passenger seat. I slid the door shut and moved to my own side. Mouse climbed to the back and settled onto the seat. I was impressed he resisted the urge to shake the excess water from his fur. Sometimes, I suspect my dog had more common sense than I do. I shifted my gore encrusted staff into the vehicle and then crawled into its shelter and out of the torrential rain.<p>

I glanced quickly at the naked young woman wrapped in my duster and passed out beside me. Even with the dim light in the care interior, she looked badly in need of a number of things. She was too skinny and not in the I need to lose a few pounds to fit in my new dress sort of way. It was more of the there isn't enough food in the house kind of thing. Her lips were pressed together in a tight little frown and her entire body seemed to scream stress. On top of that, she was pale. Really pale. I think she might have given Thomas a run for his money pale. Although she told me not to take her to the hospital, she really needed more medical attention than I could provide. The claw damage most likely needed some serious stitches. For her sake, I hope that the muscles weren't damaged too much or else the little warrior was in for some serious rehabilitation time on top of the inevitable scarring. Decision made to drop her at Mercy's emergency department, I fished my car keys from the pocket of my soaked jeans.

Happily, the VW bug started on the second attempt. Before I could loosen my grip on the key, a tiny hand snagged my wrist. I guess she wasn't as unconscious as I thought.

"No hospital," the stranger reiterated to me although she hadn't opened her eyes. Fleetingly, I wondered how she had been able to grab me without opening them. Not to mention how such a little hand was keeping my larger arm in place.

"What are you?" I demanded as I attempted to move my arm.

"I'm Buffy," she replied with a slight shrug that caused her to grimace in pain at the movement to her back muscles.

"Harry," I replied automatically even though she hadn't told me what exactly she was.

I was going to press for a real answer but Mouse intervened on the stranger's behalf. My dog shifted his large head between the seats. He whined at me before shifting to sniff at Buffy's neck again. He nuzzled against her and just the tiniest hint of a smile lifted her lips. Mouse then turned back to me and barked once at me. I stared at my dog who seemed to be willing me to be friends with the stranger.

I shook my head when I realized I was going to trust the dog over my own good sense.

"Fine," I grumbled "But if she turns out to be some evil oogie boogie, Mister is the only one getting treats for a month."

Mouse just licked my face in response before he settled back onto his seat. I ran a quick hand over my cheek to clear away the slobber. I might love Mouse but dog slobber on the face is still not my idea of fun.

I put the car in gear, turned the windshield wipers on high, and directed the vehicle onto the deserted street. When we reached the corner, I could see the three previous hostages huddled in the light of a convenience store waiting for a taxi to arrive. Now, normally I would have made sure the trio made it safely on their way but I figured the forces of good would forgive me this once. Buffy and her injury were the more immediate need.

After reminding me one more time that she did not want to go to the hospital, I asked her where she wanted me to take her.

"Would help if I knew where here was," Buffy replied. She still hadn't opened her eyes and she seemed to hold herself in a tight little ball of misery that I wasn't sure if it was all pain related or if something else was going on. For some reason, I was betting on the latter.

"We just left Oak Woods Cemetery," I answered evenly. When that garnered no response, I added "Chicago."

Buffy sighed heavily.

"Figures," she muttered as if being in Chicago was a cruel joke leveled just against her.

I frowned. Need I remind you that I like my hometown.

"Can I drop you home?" I prompted as I turned the Beetle down a street that headed in the general direction of my neighborhood. "Or maybe a friend's house?"

Buffy's shoulders slumped and she rested her head against the window.

"I somehow doubt your car would make it to my house," she sighed with a strange little tone that I think might have been teasing if the girl hadn't been crushing under some serious worries.

"Where's home?"

"Sunnydale, California."

I frowned again and admitted that I had no clue where that was. She informed me that it was about two hours from Los Angeles. I had to agree with her that the Blue Beetle wouldn't make it that far.

"Figured as much."

From the back seat, Mouse whined loudly.

Now, I may be a hard-nosed wizard who was more comfortable knocking down walls than offering emotional support but even I didn't need my dog giving me lessons on recognizing a damsel in distress. As if being flung into a graveyard naked in the middle of an undead showdown wasn't bad enough, Buffy's entire attitude seemed to just scream 'help me'. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any knights on white horses in the immediate vicinity. I rubbed my face with my left hand and groaned softly as I wondered just how big of a mess I was getting into.

After a quick right hand turn and a rumble over some train tracks, I made up my mind.

"I can't get you to California tonight, but I do have a phone. And some towels. And, well, you might be swimming in them but I can swing something for you to wear. Come morning, we'll see if we can't figure some way to get you home."

I was hoping she would accept the offer. I was tired, cranky and waterlogged to the point of pruning. I really wasn't up to sorting out whatever mystical phenomena had quite literally landed her in my arms.

"Sounds like a plan," Buffy responded flatly.

She sounded so defeated that I had a hard time reconciling the powerhouse who tore the head off a vampire with the seemingly broken young woman curled against my passenger side door. I flipped another worried glance at my unexpected guest before pulling into the small parking lot for my house. Yeah, I know, it isn't really my house. More like my basement apartment but it was home.

Without a protest, Buffy allowed me to carry her from the car. I doubted walking in bare feet across the gravel would have been pleasant so I was happy that she agreed. Once more she rested her head on my shoulder and I didn't make the effort to stop the smile that settled on my face. For some reason, it felt right to have her with me. It was weird and if I wasn't so tired and uncomfortable, the unexpected feeling of a connection would have worried me. As it was, I just chocked it up to instant attraction and enjoyed the sensation of the tiny woman resting in my arms.

After addressing my security wards, I shoved my door open and carried the blonde into my home. I will admit that I didn't issue a formal invitation into the apartment. Since I still wasn't sure what exactly she was, I was hoping the power of my threshold might add at least a little extra protection. I might have enjoyed the sensation of having Buffy with me but I wasn't a complete idiot. Yeah, I know what you're thinking but you're wrong. I really have been trying to limit my inner fool.

After my door was locked again and my security wards back in place, I turned my attention to my house guest. She just stood in the center of the room dripping water all over my worn carpet as she clutched my ridiculously over-sized coat around her shivering body. I wasn't sure if she looked like a little girl playing dress up or a nymph set on seduction. A pretty girl in a guy's clothes often tripped some possessive and primal instinct but Buffy was so undersized for my coat that the little girl image almost fit better. I turned my back on the image and shoved any attraction into a mental closet. I reminded myself that she was obviously off the market given her state when she was flung into my arms. For a moment, I was jealous of whoever Spike was.

A quick trip into my bedroom afforded me the only clean towel I had from the shelf in my closet. I tossed it to my pretty guest before grabbing one of my dirty towels and heading over to Mouse who was leaving an even larger puddle on the floor than Buffy was. With a soft thanks to my dog for not dousing my apartment in water to shake himself dry, I ran the towel over Mouse's thick fur. He bumped his head against my bare chest to offer his own doggy thanks for the impromptu towel rubbing and petting session. Once he was no longer dripping, I focused a bit of will and forced the logs in the fireplace to burst into flame. Mouse immediately nudged me out of the way and shuffled over to lay in front of the warmth.

I suddenly realized that casting fire magic might not be the best idea around someone who might might not understand. Nervously, I turned to check on Buffy. She didn't seem at all fazed by the sudden roaring fire. I guess that means she is in the know about magic. I gave myself a mental kick. I should have figured as much since she didn't panic over the vampires. In fact, she had dived headfirst into battle without a second thought. It made me really wonder what she was. I hoped I could coax it out of her before she leaves for home. Curiosity might have killed the cat but it drives wizards insane. Since I like my sanity right where it was, I hoped some answers might come my way soon.

Excusing myself again, I retreated to my bedroom for some dry clothes. By the time I returned in gray sweats and a t-shirt with a faded image of Han Solo on it, Buffy was out of my duster and wrapped in the towel. She was perched on the edge of my couch and trying to check the extent of her injury. I pulled my industrial sized first aid kit from the kitchen and approached her with what I hoped was a trustworthy expression. Although she worried her lip a bit nervously and clutched the towel tighter around her body, Buffy turned and allowed me to examine her shoulder.

Although still bleeding lightly, the wound didn't look near as nasty as I originally anticipated. It still looked like it needed stitches but I didn't believe any serious damage was done to her muscles. I dabbed at the worst gash with a bandage square soaked with rubbing alcohol. She didn't even flinch when the astringent encountered the wound. I was impressed. If I had a similar injury, I bet I would have been bitching up one side and down the other.

"It's not as bad as I thought," I encouraged as I started taping cotton squared over the slices.

"I heal quickly," Buffy volunteered but provided no further explanation.

I resisted the urge to sigh. Buffy obviously wasn't the sharing type. She sat silently as I performed my pathetic patch job and did nothing but clutch the towel tighter to her chest when I had to push the back of it down to address the bottom of her wound.

"I left some clothes on the bed for you," I offered while returning the first aide supplies to their large metal box. My eyes trailed over her exposed skin and noticed a number of healing bruises and minor scrapes. Despite the injuries, my hand practically itched to run a finger across her exposed skin. I swallowed. Oh yeah, dressed was a good idea.

A few minutes later, my quiet guest padded from my bedroom in a pair of my gym shorts and the smallest shirt I could find in my drawer. I might not fit in my "If I only had a brain" shirt any longer but I liked the scarecrow too much to pitch it. Even in the undersized for me t, Buffy was swimming in my clothes. My running shorts hung well below her knees and the shirt fit more like a nightshirt. Good thing for drawstrings. I offered Buffy a smile and directed her to the telephone sitting on the counter in my kitchen. She silently moved into the room and stared at the telephone for a moment before reaching for it. A tiny smile quirked the edges of her lips when she informed me that my phone was even more old fashion than her watcher's. Since I wasn't sure what a watcher was, I just smiled in return before reaching into my equally out of date refrigerator and pulling out two cans of coke.

Buffy dialed while I gulped my first couple mouthfuls of caffeinated happiness. I watched as a pinched expression marred her face. She hung up and immediately dialed again. Her frown increased as she once more depressed the cradle and tried a different number. This time, she ended up listening for a moment and then offering an apology to whoever was on the other end of the line before claiming to have called the wrong number. For a moment, I thought I noticed a trace of fear shine in her green eyes before the expression slipped back under her previous indifferent one. She worried her lower lip between her teeth as she tried dialing another number. This time, when she was forced to apologize for another wrong number, the blonde slammed the handset into the cradle a bit harder than was healthy for it.

The young woman wrapped her arms around her middle and shuddered slightly. she closed her eyes and concentrated on calming her thoughts. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to help. I watched as she fought to keep the tears rimming her eyes from actually escaping to roll down her cheeks. If there is one thing that I am a bigger sucker over than protecting my hometown, it would be crying women. It seems I hadn't unknowingly encountered a cure for the disorder any time in the past couple hours so I found myself overwhelmed with the need to do whatever I could to stop my house guest from crying.

"Don't worry, Buffy. We'll get you home," I promised. If all else failed, I could get Murphy to loan her some clothes and see if I could find her a path at least to LA through the ways.

She giggled in response. Not what I expected and the slightly hysterical tone to the laugh set my nerves on edge. There was more going on here than I suspected.

"Might have some difficulty doing that, Harry," Buffy finally replied as she roughly wiped away the tears in her eyes. "Seems home isn't exactly where it is supposed to be."

I opened my mouth to comment but then shut is without saying a thing. If her home wasn't where it was supposed to be, where was it?"

Buffy glanced down at the Wizard of Oz shirt she was borrowing. She giggled again and I found it just as creepy as the first time.

"Fitting," she commented as she patted the scarecrow's face. "I guess we're not in Kansas anymore Toto," she muttered more to herself than to me.

Well, double damn. Since neither one of us were particularly interested in the Sunflower state, her comment could only mean one thing and it was going to put more than an average sized kink in any rescue plans. I gave into the urge to sigh loudly. Well wasn't this gonna be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

"So this means she isn't anywhere in Sunnydale, right?" Dawn murmured in disappointment as she glanced from the map of the town resting on the floor to Tara who was sitting cross-legged on the floor along the edge of a sand casting circle. Both Dawn and Spike sat like the other two corners of a triangle along the edge of the circle. Willow had elected to wait in the dorm lobby instead of join them in Tara's room. She wasn't sure she could handle seeing her ex-girlfriend currently. It wasn't just the magic they had just performed either. She suspected she would lose all dignity and start begging and crying that Tara forgive her and take her back.

"Um, y-yes... I mean... n-no, Buffy isn't in Sunnydale," the insecure white witch confirmed. She hated to disappoint the teen. Tara guessed that Dawn was a bit scared over her sister's disappearance and she really wanted to help.

"Maybe we should try another map?" Dawn suggested.

Tara nodded and said she had an atlas on the shelf. The locator spell wasn't particularly difficult or expensive to perform. She had the ability to cast it a couple more times before she was too out of energy. Spike got up and silently retrieved the book of maps. He flipped through a number of pages until he found the one he wanted. The vampire sat the book in the circle.

"Uh, I d-don't think I c-can cast one that big, Spike," Tara nervously admitted when she noticed that he had opened the book to a picture of the entire world. "I'm not powerful enough."

"Could Red do it?" Spike asked.

Tara nodded.

"But we can't ask her."

Spike was about to disagree because this was for Buffy and that the other witch would have to get over herself and help but Dawn forestalled his angry grumbling. Now was not the time to be grousing over Willow's magic addiction issues. Personally, Dawn was so disgusted with the red head that she would be happy to never acknowledge her ever again.

"Couldn't we combine efforts? Like use Spike and I for extra batteries to give your spell more boost?" the teen questioned.

If possible, Tara looked even more nervous. She had only ever shared energies with Willow and her mother when casting spells. She wasn't sure if she could combine essence with people she didn't love. The white witch pushed her long dishwater blonde hair behind her ears and glanced at her companions. She reached out and brushed Dawn's dark hair behind her ear too. She cared about Dawn. She often felt a kinship with the younger girl. She knew Dawn perpetually felt forgotten and overshadowed by her super-powered sibling. Tara knew what it was like to grow up with a sibling who the world revolves around. Her mother might have made her feel loved, but her father had only had eyes and care for her brother. She offered Dawn an encouraging smile. She could work with that feeling of kinship.

Tara shifted her attention to the agitated vampire pacing around her dorm room. On a good day, Spike made the timid woman a bit nervous. His energy and passion coupled with volatile temper and violent tendencies were more than her reserved personality could easily handle. Unlike Willow and Xander, Tara had not known Spike before the Initiative placed the behavior modification chip in his head. She didn't hate him for his violent past. If anything, she saw him struggling on the fringes of their existence. He was unable to be the demon he once was but was unsure of how to be anything else. Tara clasp her hands nervously in her lap. Perhaps she could use that feeling of being on the outside as a way to connect with the vampire. She often felt that way with the Scoobies. Buffy and Willow and Xander and even Giles had been through so much together that it made it hard for others to really connect with them completely. She, Spike, Anya and even Dawn where relegated to the outer circle of existance while the work of the Slayer circled mostly around the original Scoobies.

Tara frowned. Except the inner circle seemed to be floundering lately. Giles was gone back to England. Willow was lost in her own personal struggles. Xander had embraced being an adult with responsibilities like his job and planning a wedding and it had divided his loyalties to the group. Then Tara thought of Buffy. She sighed. Buffy was not the same glowing warrior of light that had dazzled her so much when they met as freshmen. Tara knew she was broken with too much weight and too many losses in too little time. Tara just wished that there was something she could do to truly help her. The determination to help in any way possible steeled her nerve.

Making up her mind, Tara called Spike over and said that she was willing to try the more involved spell. Silently, she hoped she wasn't making a huge mistake. She instructed the teen and the vampire to join her on the floor again. Instead of sitting quietly and watching this time though, she asked that they focus all their thoughts on picturing Buffy. She then had them join hands to make a circuit that could more easily channel their energies. Tara realized that Willow would most likely have been able to just snag the energy right from their bodies but her magic didn't work the same way. Hers was more subtle. Willow's magic was raw and powerful and beat down the things in its path. Tara saw her magic as being more like a soft summer breeze. It wasn't powerful. It was more a gentle touch. It was enough to slightly sway the branches and offer cooling comfort to the overheated but it wasn't going to change the world.

The white witch made a conscious decision to force away thoughts of her recent lover. She needed all her energy to make this next spell work. She too focused her thoughts on Buffy as she opened herself to the other two participants in the casting.

Tara gasped as the two energies surged into her being. It was not a pleasant experience for the witch. With a little concentration, she was able to recognize the two distinct flavors of power coursing into her body and helping to fuel the spell. Both held a weight of time and age that she had not expected but probably should have since she was dealing with a girl created from ancient mystical energy and a potentially immortal demon.

The power from Dawn had an almost sharp and cutting edge to it. She could feel the love the teen held for her sister but there were a number of abrasive elements to the feeling. Resentment and selfishness fiercely entwine with the love and it was further tainted with a childish hero worship that focused on the surface of the Slayer instead of on Buffy as an entire being. There was dependency but self anger because of the dependency. There was petty jealousy and even an element of self satisfying superiority to Dawn's feelings. Tara grimaced. None of the feelings were especially surprising given that Dawn was a little sister on top of having only a few years of actual real memories and maturity under her belt. It didn't mean that the feelings were a treat to experience though.

The power from Spike was equally unpleasant for Tara to contain. She had expected his essence to be chilling like the cold corpse he was. The witch had not anticipated the scalding burn that rushed inside her from their connection. She felt like she was almost drowning in the crushing tide of his emotions. In the back of her mind she noted that whoever taught Giles that vampires didn't feel anything more than base emotions was obviously an uninformed idiot. She shuddered under the crushing pressure and fought to breath. The crush of emotion swirled around Tara and she flinched from the anger and violence that insinuated its scratching fingers through the other emotions.

The love Spike felt for Buffy was entirely different than Dawn's feelings. There were soft fluttery feelings that Tara easily identified as love but there were also dark and lustful ones that made her skin feel too tight and the muscles in her womb contract in a manner she had never experienced before in contact with a male. Desperately, the Wicca shifted through the possessive elements to grasp at the tenderness embedded deeply in swirling flood. She gathered those softer emotions towards her in hopes of stemming the choking sensation of drowning in raw passion.

Unfortunately, Spike was an all or nothing type of person. All his feelings were so thickly interwoven that when Tara pulled at one, she got them all anyway. Floundering, she gave up trying to find the soft kernel of feeling that she embraced as traditionally and easily identified symbols of love. Instead, she forced everything together along with Dawn's chaos of power and shoved it with all her might into the spell.

Power surged out of her body. Blinding light flashed in the room and a crack of thunder accompanied the blast. All the candles were blown out and sand scattered.

"Wow..." muttered Tara as she swayed for a moment and the only thing keeping her from falling back to the carpet was the tight grip that Spike and Dawn held on her hands.

Her dorm door slammed open and a panicked Willow raked the room with her eyes. She had felt the blast of magical energy and heard the thunder. She had instantly worried about everyone's safety.

"What happened?" she demanded when she found the mess in the previously tidy room.

Tara giggled as she stared drunkenly at the map. Confusion pricked at the euphoric rush when she realized that there was no mark on the world map. She shook her head.

"That makes no sense," she insisted as she released her hold on her companions. Her hands scrambled across the unmarked surface of the map. "I felt the spell work. It had enough power and it worked perfectly. She should show up on the map."

She lifted heart-sickened eyes to meet Spike's pained gaze.

"Oh God... she's dead..." Dawn murmured only to be immediately pulled into a hug by the stressed vampire.

"No, no, Nibblet," he promised with a fervor that revealed how desperately he wanted his words to be true. "She can't be dead. No body."

Dawn clung tightly to the vampire and buried her head against his chest.

"Then where is she?" the teen begged desperately. "How do we find her now?"

"I don't know but we'll find her."

Tara stood and started collecting some things and put them in a large tote back. She still swayed slightly and her voice sounded like she was trying to catch her breath.

"I think it might help if we started where she disappeared. There might be some clue there as to where she is or what took here."

For a moment, a new expression of panic flashed in Spike's eyes but he quickly veiled it. He explained that they were at his crypt when she disappeared. In silence, they all trooped back to the Summers jeep and proceeded to Spike's graveyard home. The vampire kept nervously glancing at the slowly lightening horizon. They would be reaching the safety of his crypt just before the sun rose.

Tara, Willow and Dawn followed Spike into his home. As normal, the crypt was dusty and cool but it was obvious that someone was squatting there. The tv, mini-fridge, and ratty furniture collected from the dump made the fact obvious.

Tara put down her bag and started wandering around the space. She tried to open her senses to see if she could feel anything amiss with the crypt but she didn't feel anything but the cool promise of the grave tickling her sensitive skin.

"Did Buffy stop here after patrol?" Willow demanded from her position near the crypt entrance. She had tried to engage Tara in conversation on the trip to the cemetery but the other woman had merely shaken her head and hidden behind her long hair and bowed head. Willow was angry that the other witch was ignoring her and decided to pass along some of the frustration to the resident vampire.

Spike twitched nervously as his eyes darted from Tara who was slowly pacing through his living space to the red head.

"Uh, yeah... she did a quick patrol then stopped for a bit," he admitted before nervously wiping his palms against his pant legs. He then rubbed his left hand over his uncovered stomach. He grimaced when his hands ran over the slowly healing scratch marks. Suddenly, he desperately wished he had more clothes on his body.

He then excused himself to go find a shirt. The vampire attempted to flee down the hole behind the stone sarcophagus to the cavern where he slept but Tara stopped him with one of the questions he didn't want to answer.

"Where was Buffy exactly when she disappeared?"

Spike looked momentarily guilty and all three girls noticed but none had a chance to comment before he answered.

"Um, she was downstairs," the vampire admitted as he raised his left hand and ran it nervously across the back of his neck. His eyes darted towards the hole again.

"I think this might work better if you show me where," Tara prompted. She grabbed her bag and tucked the handles over her shoulder.

Reluctantly, Spike agreed although only after warning her that it was really a mess down there and that he would need to get some lights lit for her.

The vampire dropped down the hole in the stone floor and Tara followed by climbing down the ladder. By the time she stepped away from the rungs, Spike had lit a couple candles that cast a warm glow through the cavern. Tara stepped towards the light. Her eyes caught sight of the disheveled room and they widened in understanding when she noticed a red lace bra snapped, discarded and hanging forgotten on an outcropping of rock. Her vision scanned quickly around the space and noticed a pair of discarded blue jeans that didn't match the normal Spike's normal style. It might have helped that Buffy confided in her about her relationship with Spike but the evidence laying about the room was pretty revealing unto itself.

Clamoring on the ladder caught Tara's attention and stopped Spike from lighting more candles.

"Dawnie, y-you should wait upstairs," warned Tara as she tried to halt the teen's decent. In typical fashion, the brunette did not listen. Tara was not even remotely forceful and the teen wouldn't have listened to her sister either. She jumped the last few rungs and spun around to take in the cavern.

"Did you find any clues?" she demanded impatiently before her eyes lit up slightly. "Oh, Spike, I like the rugs. They make the place seem more... um..."

Her voice fell silent as she bent over and picked up one of her sister's few remaining nice silk shirts. It was one of Buffy's favorite designer outfits tops that dated from when their mom was still around to spoil her and that had surprisingly survived nightly patrosl. Dawn recognized it because it was one of the few nice shirts she hadn't already stolen out of Buffy's closet. After all, she was still in school and needed to maintain a certain standard. Dawn figured her sister didn't need designer clothes for patrol or for working at Doublemeat Palace. The teen checked the shirt for damage and found nothing wrong with it. She held it out towards Tara.

"Whatever got her sent Buffy somewhere but not her clothes?" the teen questioned in confusion. It didn't make sense but perhaps it was a clue.

Along the wall, Spike attempted to snag the torn red bra from the wall and stuff it in the back pocket of his jeans. His guilty attempt only drew attention to his movement and the vampire found himself the subject of exactly the scrutiny he was hoping to avoid.

Tara's eyes seemed to hold understanding and a hint of sympathy which led the vampire to figure she somehow already knew about the physical relationship he was sharing with the Slayer. On the other hand, the younger Summers girl was staring at him suspiciously as her eyes snapped back and forth between the balled up bra and the scratches on Spike's chest. Her blue eyes suddenly widened comically and she squealed in a pitch that pierced the vamp's sensitive ears.

"OH MY GOD YOU'RE BOINKING MY SISTER!"

If Spike could have looked more like a deer caught in the headlights, he would have needed antlers. He gaped at the teen who somehow looked betrayed that he would dare have sex with her sister even though she knew he loved her.

"Who's boinking Buffy?" Willow questioned as she too joined the party.

"Bloody Hell! Why don't we all just have a party in my bedroom?" He ranted. "Invite all the neighbors and poke their noses in my own private business!"

"Your neighbors are all dead!" Dawn yelled irrationally at the vampire who was making her feel so irrationally jealous. For years she had thought that Spike was her vampire. Granted, she knew the bleached freak was in love with her sister but her prissy perfect sister didn't see him as anything other than a nuisance. He was Dawn's friend and she certainly didn't want to share him with anyone. She especially didn't want to share him with her sister.

"Who's boinking Buffy?" Willow repeated as she joined the others in the dimly lit cavern.

Dawn waved the damning bit of silk evidence in the red head's face.

"Buffy's sleeping with the undead again!" Dawn accused in pure bratty sister tone that was one part jealousy, one part disgust, and one part hope her sister gets in trouble for something that was none of her business in the first place.

"What? Huh?" Willow clamored in confusion as she glanced rapidly between Spike and Dawn.

"Spike... Buffy... having wild monkey sex WITH EACH OTHER!" Dawn explained one more time.

This time the explanation cleared the fog in her mind and Willow suddenly became indignant. No one had told her that Buffy and Spike were having sex. She was the best friend. Shouldn't she know these things? Resentment at being yet again left out of the information loop bubbled over and Willow began yelling demands about the relationship and how wrong they were to be sneaking behind everyone's backs. Dawn joined in on the yelling as she attempted to vent her frustrations and fear on the easiest target. The target, in a typical Spike response, got just as angry. He dropped the nervous guilt and immediately began yelling back at the two girls who were verbally attacking him and Buffy.

Horrified, Tara just stared at the three verbal combatants. She tried a couple times to calm their tirades but no one would listen to the soft spoken witch. Fed up with their ridiculous behavior that wasn't helping find Buffy at all, Tara grabbed one of Spike partially empty liquor bottles and threw it against the wall. The glass shattered noisily and startled the arguments into silence.

"Just stop!" Tara ordered firmly. "This isn't helping."

She glared at the fools until each one sheepishly swallowed their ire. Tara then pointed to the ladder and ordered both Willow and Dawn to go back upstairs. When they went to protest, the white witch just pointed again and glared at them so fiercely that she shelved their complaints. As it turned out, Tara's resolve face made Willow's one look like child's play. Both girls reluctantly left the candlelit cavern like the punished petulant children they were mimicking.

Once the distractions were gone, Tara turned her attention back to the properly chastised vampire. Without a complaint, he answered questions about where they were when Buffy suddenly vanished as well as what exactly they were doing. Tara blushed slightly as she listened to him but moved confidently to sit next to the spot they had occupied before everything went pear shaped. She pulled a large quartz meditation focus from her bag and set it in front of her crossed legs.

Closing her eyes, the Wicca relaxed herself until she could feel the ebb and flow of the magic in the world around her. She could hear the gentle pull of the strong protective earth as it embraced death and transitioned it back into life. She felt the ever changing pull of water flowing somewhere in the cavern that edged against her consciousness and attempted to entice her away into its depths. She touched the soft tendrils of air that clamored and twisted in an attempt to escape the stale cavern and rejoice in the freedom of the open sky. She felt the pulse of passion that had seeped into the very core of the cavern as well as the despair and pain that seemed to drip from the very walls. Sorting through all these textures, Tara found the tiniest hint of magic. It was just a miniscule shadow of the spell but from it she could tell that whoever cast the spell had possessed a soul. A faint trace of the soul remained in the wake of the casting.

Slowly waking from her meditative state, Tara was greeted by a now calm but obviously worried vampire sitting directly in front of her and mirroring her position.

"Any luck?" he whispered and Tara's heart broke a little at the pain reflected in Spike's expression. Having shared his essence earlier, she knew without a doubt just how deeply the vampire cared for the Slayer. Fervently, she hoped that someday, someone would love her with even a part of the passion that he wrapped around his feelings for the missing Slayer. It might not have been a pure thing but the love was real and staggering in its depth.

"You're right. She's gone but not dead. No death taint here," she reassured him verbally while she reached out physically and gently touched his arm.

"So how do we get her back?" he asked in a tone that resembled a lost little boy and not the cocky vampire that had spent the past couple years alternating between annoying and aiding the Scoobies.

"We find who did the spell and we trace where he or she sent her. If that doesn't work, we can start work on some kind of retrieval spell. The first one would be easier to cast. The second one would need a lot more power than we can easily muster. We might need the help of a Coven and some extra batteries to yank her back blind. Either way, we will bring her home, Spike. I promise."

Spike smiled softly at the witch's softly spoken vow. He thanked her and patted her hand once before standing. Tara watched as the insecure and hurting man slipped behind the mask of the arrogant monster. As he turned to face the inevitable turmoil awaiting him upstairs, the Wicca silently sent a prayer to the goddess to lend her strength and wisdom to help find their missing friend. She truly hoped she would be able to keep her promise. She suspected Spike's life might depend upon it.

* * *

><p>Waking up was never one of my favorite activity of the day. Waking up with my brother poking my shoulder and perched on the edge of my mattress just added to the undesirable sensation. I couldn't help but groan before asking what he needed. Of course, the bastard didn't actually answer my question. No, that would be too easy on my sleep muddled mind. Instead, he jumped right to the hard questions.<p>

"Who's the pretty jail-bait on the couch?" He demanded softly with a suggestive smirk that I might have found annoying if I was a bit more coherent.

"Huh?"

That's me, Mr. Articulate.

Thomas stared at me for a moment as if I had lost mind.

"I'm talking about the pretty little blonde girl who if you were anyone other than you that I would accuse of corrupting a minor."

Thomas snorted then shook his head as if terribly disappointed in me.

"But since it is you, you're probably just doing your white knight impersonation."

I levered myself up and placed both my feet on the floor. Being vertical normally helped my brain work better for some reason. Not sure why. You would think the blood had an easier time traveling up to my head when I was laying down but I have always thought better on my feet. This time was no different as the fog cleared and I finally remember just who Thomas was referencing.

"That's Buffy," I volunteer as I made it the whole way to my feet and headed towards the doorway. I pulled down the t-shirt that had scrunched up during sleep and ran my hand through my messy hair. I vividly remembered the expression on Buffy's face when she was first flung into my arms. I smirked. "And there's no way she is jail bait."

Once more, my jerk of a brother snorted. He always thinks he knows so much about the opposite sex because he has women throwing themselves at him all the time. Of course, he has the added advantage of being a White Court vampire. An incubus. Women and even men couldn't help but want him. Didn't mean he knew everything about women but it tended to make him cocky about his appeal.

"Yeah right," he countered as he joined me by the entrance to the living room. "If she's old enough to legally drink, I owe you dinner. Real dinner and not those lousy fast food burgers you call food."

"I want Italian," I teased as my eyes sought my house guest who was still fast asleep on my sofa. Between the dark bruising under her eyes and her newly acquired injury, Buffy had looked beyond exhausted last night. It was no wonder she was still out despite my brother's unexpected arrival. I was betting a veritable army of vampires could invade and she wouldn't move.

Currently, Buffy was curled on her side with one arm tucked under my extra pillow. Her other hand hung off the edge of the couch and was buried in Mouse's thick fur at the scruff of his neck. Her legs were pulled up tight and the throw blanket she huddled under had fallen to the side. Her little feet and delicate ankles stuck out from the warmth. Mister, my cat, was snuggled in the curl of her legs with his head resting contentedly on the bend of her knee. The three of them made me feel a bit jealous. They looked so comfortable. Asleep and free from her worries, the young woman looked significantly younger than she did last night. The weight that seemed to press her into a tight ball was gone in her slumber. The lines of worry and stress were missing from her face. She looked innocent and sweet. Like someone who should be fending off fraternity brothers at some drunken college party and not like someone who tore heads off vampires in graveyards. I sighed. Thomas was right. Jail bait.

I frowned. Maybe I wouldn't be getting spaghetti and meatballs anytime soon.

Mouse opened his eyes to acknowledge my presence. His tail thumped happily on the floor but he didn't move from his comfy spot. It suddenly struck me as a very protective position. If anything dangerous came through my front door, it would have needed to go through him and his fangs to get the sleeping girl. Fleetingly, I wondered what made my dog attach himself so fiercely to someone we just met. It made me scowl again. I really needed to discover what she was.

I'll be the first to admit that patience isn't my strongest suit. I'm more of a club or spades kinda guy. Anyway, I wanted answers about my unexpected house guest and I had a foolproof way of getting some of the information. It might not be the most pleasant but it would give me some truth. I closed my eyes and opened myself to the magic of my Sight. When I opened my eyes, I could not help but gasp. My knees shook and I found myself clutching at the wall behind me in order to keep upright. Vaguely, I felt Thomas' hand steady me and heard him talking but I couldn't understand anything he was saying. The words were just a jumble of sound kinda like the buzz of summer insects.

Finally tearing my eyes from the vision asleep on my couch, I slammed my lids shut and fought to lock the power away. Without a word, I fled into my bedroom and sunk onto my bed. I felt tears coursing down my cheeks while an uncontrollable urge to laugh hysterically tickled my throat. Once seen with Sight, a vision cannot be forgotten and I wasn't sure if seeing Buffy was a blessing or a curse. The sight tore at my soul.

"What was that?" Thomas questioned softly as he hesitantly moved into the shadowed room. He joined me on the bed and sad beside me like he thought I needed the support. I guess I looked the way I felt. Utterly unnerved. Not my normal state of being so it must have put Thomas on edge too.

I lifted my head and allowed a painful chuckle to escape.

"She's glorious," I stated in a thoroughly awestruck tone. "Like all three Knights of the Cross rolled into one tiny little package only instead of existing for a few thousand years it is like her power has existed from the dawn of time."

"Well, that's a good thing, right?" Thomas pressed. His expression conveyed how confused he was by my description. Maybe he thought beholding a Chosen Warrior of God was an easy thing. Being Thomas, he didn't avoid pressing his point of confusion. If there is one thing my brother excels at besides attracting women, it was being blunt. "So then why the freak out?"

I ran my fingers through my already sleep messed hair.

"She's the most glorious thing I have ever seen but at the same time, the most horrific. She shines like a holy warrior but at the same time, it is like everything that makes her glorious has been ripped from the center of her being. I imagine that's what the Fallen would look like after losing their place in Heaven. Only its worse because it feels to me like it wasn't by choice. At least the Denarians chose to leave paradise."

"A bit simplistic, but strangely accurate," a flat voice from the doorway to my bedroom stated.

It must have been comical the way Thomas and I instantly snapped our attention towards the little blonde leaning on the door jam with Mouse pressed up against her hip and her hand resting gently on his head. Our synchronized movement pulled the smallest hint of a smile from Buffy's lips.

For a few heartbeats we all just stared at each other.

Awake, the innocence of sleep was gone from my guest's face. In its place was the world wearied despair and sadly knowledgeable eyes that had made me think she was so much older than she most likely was. For some reason, my chest felt tight in response to the perceived loss. Again, I had to wonder why I felt so strongly for this young woman I only just met. It made me feel uncomfortable and a bit scared. Not that I was going to admit that to anyone or anything.

Thomas sighed.

"Do you want spaghetti or lasagna," he casually inquired as he rose gracefully from his seat with a sleekness that reminded me of a cat. All confidence and smooth motions.

Buffy watched his movements warily. It was easy to notice her muscles tense as if she wasn't sure if Thomas was a friend or a foe. Either way, she seemed to recognize that he was something other than human and didn't take her eyes off him. She reminded me of a soldier who had survived not only too many battles but possibly too many wars. Alert and paranoid that everyone was a potential enemy. Tension seemed to roll like a silent and invisible host in the room and every one of us floundered in it.

At her side, Mouse whined and leaned more heavily against her body and she absently caressed his head. She offered him comfort without a thought. It seemed natural to her but I wasn't sure if she actually felt the desire to continue to give of herself or if it was habit. Was it possible that she had given so much that it was a learned response? An acceptance that she had to keep giving even though her heart was not in it. Even though she had nothing left to give.

In horror, I likened it to when a body died. The nails and hair kept growing as if still alive but there was no hint of life remaining. I could see Buffy continuing to give even though she was in essence dead inside.

"Spaghetti," I answered to cover my morbid thoughts. "But maybe we should see who owes who."

I stood and offered Buffy what I hoped was an encouraging smile.

"How old are you, Buffy?"

She tilted her head slightly as if surprised by the question. I guess she expected something a bit more off the wall than simply being asked her age.

"Twenty. I'll be twenty-one in January."

Holy Cow, she was just a kid. A kid should never have the expression in their eyes. Covering the new blow in my gut, I nudged Thomas with my elbow.

"See not jail bait," I stated with a lopsided grin.

Thomas snorted.

"Not legal to drink," he smartly replied as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Buffy stared at the two of us for a heartbeat.

"I take it you're siblings?" she asked in a tone that indicated she figured she had to be correct.

We both froze. Our relationship was not something shared with the general populous. Only those we both trusted with our lives and the lives of each other knew. It wasn't a very long list. Like one hand with fingers to spare long.

"Why would you say that?" I countered in an attempt to cover.

I guess I wasn't very convincing. She just shrugged.

"You act like it. And the jaw lines and noses help."

Instead of confirming or denying her claim, I asked if she was hungry. I thought I had some eggs and bread that were still edible. Or some spaghetti-Os. I knew I had a couple cans of those in the cupboard. Maybe even some beef ravioli. Given how damn underfed she looked, I doubted she would complain over the lack of gourmet fair.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were seated around my table. I was right. Buffy hadn't balked at the offer of eggs and toast. In fact, she was doing a fine job of matching me fork for fork of the fluffy yellow goodness accented with peppers, onions and cheese. She had turned her nose up a bit at the Coca Cola and asked if I had a diet one. Thomas had just shaken his head, opened the can and poured it into a glass before informing her that she could use the calories. Her green eyes had snapped with annoyance but she drank the soda.

All through the meal, Buffy kept stealing glances at Thomas. Not that women don't normally look at him repeatedly. With his looks and charm, it was to be expected. So Buffy kept looking at my brother and then glancing back at her meal. It was just that she didn't seem to find him attractive. It was more like she sensed he was Other and was trying to gauge if she was going to need to tear off his head. Since most of the time, I like my brother, I tried to think of something to put her at ease.

Buffy and Thomas beat me to the punch.

"What exactly are you?" Buffy finally asked after swallowing her last bite of scrambled eggs.

Thomas practically leered at the blonde.

"Vampire... You?"

Thomas' response made Buffy chuckle.

"No, seriously," she pressed. She obviously thought he was kidding. "What are you?"

The blonde nodded towards me and explained that she realized I was a mage or sorcerer or some such thing but she couldn't get a feel for him.

My brother's grin grew evilly.

"I am quite serious, sweetheart. I'm a vampire," he assured her seductively. His eyes slipped from gray to silver and Mouse stood from his position beside Buffy's chair. He growled. My dog actually growled at my brother. What was up with that?

"Thomas," I warned sharply as I watched Buffy's eyes narrow to thin slits.

"Not a vampire," she repeated. She tapped her chest. "You have a heartbeat."

"White Court not Black," Thomas replied as he drew more on his vampiric nature. He practically glowed with power and Buffy just stared at him indifferently. It was as if his power rolled over her skin with no affect.

I pushed my chair back and stood. I mentally cussed that my staff was still in the car. I was fast thinking I might need it. The situation was escalating way too fast for me to call a time out to outfit myself in my proper uniform. When Thomas shifted in his chair, it was too late. Mouse and Buffy moved at the same time. Both were a blur that left even Thomas at his best looking sluggish. I blinked. One moment Buffy and Mouse were on one side of the room. The next, Thomas was on the ground with Mouse on his chest growling right in his face and Buffy was crouched beside him with the knife from the sink that I had used to chop onions and tomatoes for my eggs pressed against my prone brother's neck.

"What are you," Buffy demanded again as anger and frustration seemed to boil off her. This was not the wounded young woman. This was the warrior that decimated a scourge of Black Court vamps with no warning, weapons or hell, even any clothes.

"Vam-Pire," Thomas responded slowly as if he were speaking to a small child who obviously wouldn't understand regular speech. "Now what are you?"

Buffy grinned although it seemed more like a feral snarl.

"Vampire Slayer," she responded smoothly.

"Buffy, please give me the knife," I requested as I slowly moved towards the three figures on my kitchen floor. I watched as Mouse shifted subtly so that Buffy had to compensate to keep her balance and I realized that part of the dog's attacking Thomas might have been his way of protecting him. I suspected that if Mouse had not already had my brother on the ground that Buffy would have put him there in a significantly less gentle manner. I am perpetually impressed with the intelligence of my dog. Sometimes, I think he may be smarter than everyone else in the room.

"Buffy, please. No one is going to hurt you. I promise," I practically begged.

"But he's lying and tried to mojo me," Buffy responded suspiciously. She darted her eyes from Thomas to glare at me. When she shifted her attention, I noticed Mouse lick Thomas on the face which made my brother relax ever so slightly. I think the dog was apologizing but I needed to keep my attention on the deadly girl with the knife instead of the bizarre behaviors of my pooch.

I took another step towards the self proclaimed Vampire Slayer and held my hand out. I was hoping that she really didn't want to hurt Thomas and that she might be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt since I hadn't done anything to hurt her yet.

"Buffy, please? He isn't lying. He is a vampire."

"But..."

"Remember, Oz, right. Dancing scarecrows, cowardly lions and flying monkeys. Things are gonna be different."

Buffy straightened from her crouch. She flipped the knife expertly in her hand until the blade was pinched between her fingers. It was a move I would have been hard pressed to perform even with one of Murphy's perfectly weighted throwing knives let alone my badly worn and unbalance paring knife. She offered me the handle which I took with relief.

"I think there were flying monkeys at one of the school plays," she admitted with a confused frown as she backed slowly across the room.

I didn't laugh at the thought of real flying monkeys. There was nothing funny about flying monkeys and I didn't want Buffy to think I was laughing at her either. Instead, I took another step and nudged my small horse of a dog off my idiot brother's chest and offered him a hand up. Mouse immediately trotted over to Buffy and butted her in the hip until she moved out of the kitchen.

"Remind me not to do that again," he muttered as he wiped dog drool off his face.

"I don't know," I replied as I bumped him on the shoulder on my way into my living room. "It's kinda interesting seeing some pretty little thing hand you your ass for once."

Thomas huffed indignantly before stomping into the living room and tossing himself onto the couch in a bit of a sulk. Despite his petulance, my brother relaxed into the seat with a grace that made him look like he was just waiting for someone to come and fawn all over him. Or possibly take his picture for some woman's magazine.

Instead of joining him on the couch, I dropped to the floor to be on the same level of my house guest who had settled in front of the slowly dying fire and was cooing to my dog as she rubbed his head. Mister jumped down from his perch on the top of the couch and rubbed his head against my shoulder until I offered him some scratches under his chin and around his ears.

"So maybe we can try this again. This time without the violence and posturing."

Buffy agreed and Thomas grunted so I figured we were all on the same page.

"So, I'm a wizard and Thomas really is a vampire. A White Court vampire. Not like the dead corpse vamps we killed last night. Those were Black Court vampires. Thomas... um... he's more of an incubus than a bloodsucker."

Buffy's eyes traveled over Thomas once more.

"So he is a lust bunny?" she asked with a quirk of her eyebrow that made me think she just might be teasing a bit.

"Yeah... sorta," I agreed with an encouraging smile. I then asked her what a Vampire Slayer exactly was. Buffy's hand momentarily paused in its ministrations on Mouse's fur but resumed its duties after she began to talk. She explained that where she lives that there is a Slayer. A Chosen One whose duty it is to fight against the forces of evil.

"Vampire Slayer is actually kind of a misnomer," she explained. "Yeah, I stake lots of vamps but I also get forced into facing all manner of other supernatural ickies. Wicked witches, over-sized bugs who eat my teachers, nightmares brought to life by kids in a coma. And that was just my first year at Sunnydale High School. I got to move onto demonic politicians, demon-human cyborgs, the US military, and hell gods before all was said and done."

"Wait a minute... high school?" I stammered. "How old did you become the Slayer?"

"Fifteen."

"Damn," muttered Thomas as he leaned forward with a expression that I think might have been pity on his face. I suspected I had a similar one on my own.

"Wait a minute, you defeated a god?" Thomas asked. Now he looked utterly awestruck.

Buffy shrugged. It was obvious she didn't want to talk about it and I wasn't about to push for details. The shuttered expression was back on her face and I somehow doubted we stood a chance of prying loose any more information on the subject.

"So do you have any idea how you got here?" I asked in hopes of getting other answers that might help.

Again, she shrugged but blushed which immediately reminded me of what she was obviously doing right before she was forced across realities. I guess she wouldn't have realized if anything else was going on. She had obviously been a bit preoccupied with whoever Spike was.

I mentioned that we might need to try some research if we stood a chance of sending Buffy home again. Thomas groaned and suddenly remembered that he needed to be somewhere else. It was very pressing and he promised to bring some Italian by when he had a chance. As he escaped out the door, I shook my head. I wouldn't be seeing him for a couple days at least. However long he figured it would take for me to figure out how to help my dimension hopping house guest would be a good estimate of how long he would be gone. Research was not my brother's thing.

Good thing I had the perfect companion for helping with the research. I glanced at Buffy and grinned. Even sitting on the floor with my dog, dressed in my clothing cast offs, and her hair all disheveled, the blonde was beautiful. Bob was gonna love her.


	4. Chapter 4

With one more glance at my silent house guest who still sat on the floor by the fireplace, I pulled the rug up from the floor. With a practiced ease from years of repeated movement, the carpet square settled back to reveal the trapdoor to the subbasement where I housed my magic workshop. I had invited Buffy into my home, but I wasn't real comfortable inviting her into my work space just yet. That would require a bit more trust. I threw a promise to return shortly and headed into the chilled darkness. Hopefully, Buffy would stay put. Given how comfy she looked with Mouse, I didn't expect the girl to follow me.

The sudden chill of the subbasement weaseled into my body as I descended into the darkness. With a little concentration, a number of candles flickered to life on my workbench and on the shelves. Too bad I couldn't dismiss the chill as easily as the darkness. In my haste, I had forgotten to grab my robe which would have helped with the temperature. Oh well. I would remember next time.

I headed towards the shelves and rapped on top of the bleached human skull that sat beside a couple of dogeared romance novels and a wind up toy in the shape of a chattering penis that I had been forced into giving Bob as part of some idiot bribe. I suspected he just wanted me to experience the embarrassment of searching for the anatomically incorrect toy more than he actually wanted the thing. A promise was a promise though and so Bob was now the proud owner of a plastic wind up toy that for some reason was constantly being sent across the floor by my currently absent apprentice.

I grimaced as I thought about Molly. Although I wasn't about to admit it to the Council since I was supposed to be closely watching over her, I had given her a bit of a furlough to spend time with her family. Guilt stabbed at my gut. No matter what anyone said, I still felt like her father's near death injury was my fault. I expertly compartmentalized my feelings about Michael Carpenter into a box marked don't open until Christmas. Hopefully, Christmas a few decades from now. I needed to concentrate on something I stood a chance of fixing.

If I had looked in a mirror at this moment, I would have noticed that the expression in my eyes actually appeared a lot like the haunted expression in the green eyes of my house guest upstairs. Since I am not inclined to over analyze my reflection, I missed the opportunity to discover at least a bit of the reason I felt so strangely connected to the young girl. We had more in common than either of us realized at the moment. We both carried more than our fair share of responsibility for the world.

"Wake-y, Wake-y, Bob," I called as I rapped once more on the skull. "I've got a pretty puzzle for you," I offered in a tone that hinted at the puzzle being of particular interest to the spirit housed in the bone artifact.

"Is it one of those perverted puzzles of naughty naked women?" Bob inquired as pinpricks of light illuminated the eye sockets of the skull.

I grinned. I was expecting him to say something like that. It's always good to be right.

"No, Bob," I replied with a hint of a laugh in my tone. "This would be a real woman."

"Well, what good does that do me? Not like she'd be naked and naughty with you. The puzzle would be better. Might give us both something to appreciate."

"Too late. You missed it. Already saw her in all her glory," I replied with a smirk that was more to defend myself and my decided lack of a starring role romantic lead in my life to the annoying knowledge spirit than to actually crow about having seen my pretty visitor in the buff. Huh. Buffy in the buff. I chuckled. I couldn't help myself. And who named their kid Buffy anyway? Buffy the vampire slayer. Not exactly a moniker to inspire fear.

"Now you're just pulling my leg," Bob whined.

"You have no legs, Bob," I reminded my companion.

"Oh sure, make fun of the non-corporeal. You put tacks on wheelchair seats for fun too?"

I sighed as I pulled a book I might have conveniently borrowed without asking from Council resources. I glanced at the title, Time and Space, and wondered if it might be at all helpful. I frowned as I stared at the table of contents. I really hated theory books. I tried to remember why I liberated it in the first place. I tossed it back to the shelf. I probably did it just to cheese off Morgan. I doubted it would have anything useful in it anyway. Bob was sure to know more than the author anyway.

Thinking of Morgan made me frown even more. I glanced towards the trap door. I hoped I could figure out a solution to my lost guest without having to seek additional support. I might have been forced into wearing a Warden's gray cloak and I might have even recently at least peaked the interest of Anastasia, the previous captain of the Wardens, but, and this is a big but, I still don't trust the White Council. They had been the bad guys to my good for too long for me to really feel comfortable with my place in their midst.

Hoping Bob might have a solution that didn't require me to approach anyone I didn't trust, I outlined what little I knew about my pretty puzzle upstairs.

"So she really flew into your arms naked?" Bob reiterated in a tone that conveyed the leer he could not really manifest. Go figure. Rampant destruction of vampires, averted necromantic rituals, and the strange defection of my faithful dog fail to impress Bob. Instead, he centers on the attractive naked girl part.

"Focus, Bob."

"Harry, you're hopeless."

"So give me some hope, Bob. Help me out. How do I find where she belongs and return her home?"

Bob was silent for a moment as I imagined he rifled through the overflowing filing cabinets in his metaphysical library otherwise known as his mind.

"Finding where she belongs is easy," he told me. "Just takes a simple inhalant potion. Once we know where she belongs, we can figure out how to send her there."

Bob rattled off a couple common ingredients that I had readily available. Nothing extravagant like uranium or fairy dust which I will deny having on the grounds that it makes me seem a bit more than a little touched. Doesn't mean I don't have them; just that I am not admitting to them. I quickly pulled seven ingredients, one for each sense plus one for the mind and one for the soul off the shelves. It didn't even require cooking and stirring for hours. Bob was right. The location potion really was a simple spell. Like beginner level even. Possibly before beginner if there was such a thing. After carefully measuring the couple grains or essences of each ingredient and mixing the dry particles in a tiny vial, he told me I would need to snort it instead of the normal ingestion or skin contact and then take a look at my guest. As I headed for the steps, Bob asked that I take him along so that he could help interpret whatever I saw.

Skull in one hand and vial in the other, I clamored gracelessly from the subbasement and back to the relative warmth of my apartment. I say relative because the fire had pretty much died to coals and the place wasn't exactly seventy-two degrees. Compared to the overwhelming chill of my workshop though, it felt nice.

My arrival drew the attention of Buffy and Mouse who were both still cuddled together on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Buffy frowned when she noticed Bob.

"You aren't gonna start calling me Horatio and whining about kissage on dead Yorick lips are you?" she asked with a hint of real concern in her eyes.

A snort issued from the skull in my hand.

"You're a Shakespeare fan?" I asked in amazement as the image of the little blonde warrior ripping apart vampires seemed to war heavily with the image of a studious little blonde hiding in the library reading the Bard.

Buffy shrugged and continued petting the thick fur on my dog's neck. Yet again I wondered over the weird interplay between my guest and my dog. It was starting to worry me. Oh well, I added it to the list. It fell well below Red Court vampire attacks but slightly above my beginning desire for a cheeseburger and coke. My stomach growled in protest. Maybe I should reverse that list order. My gut was being a bit insistent at the moment. Buffy's quiet words interrupted my discussion with my stomach.

"Mel might be old but he still looked good in tights. Although I wasn't particularly found of the facial hair," she simply replied.

Now that was more of the reply I expected. I grinned. Like I mentioned before, I liked predictable things.

"I think I can avoid the iambic pentameter and this is not Yorick," I answered as I waved the skull in her direction. "Buffy, meet Bob."

"Bob, this is Buffy."

"You know, Harry, I think a reenactment of our guests arrival might be needed for me to figure out how to help," the old letch prodded hopefully.

Buffy's green eyes widened ever so slightly when the skull actually spoke but she didn't seem compelled to comment. It was almost like she totally expected the unexpected and although she hadn't expected it, she was okay with it. For some reason, I had always figured that only in my world were talking skulls mundane. I glanced at the young woman who was practically communing with my decidedly un-mundane pooch. Guess I'm not so unique after all. That was a sobering thought.

"Is there any kind of incantation with this stuff?" I asked as I tried to keep Bob from making any other potentially sexually harassing or embarrassing comments and likewise prevent my thoughts from wandering into left field again. Although the flowers might be nice there, it didn't get a lot accomplished.

Bob expertly reported the proper words to accompany the surge of power I would need to infuse into the spell to have if work. I followed his directions, muttered my own pathetically mangled form of Latin, focused my will on the spell and inhaled the dust into my nostrils. My sinuses burned for a moment and my eyes teared in response. I closed my eyes and fought through the discomfort and strong desire to sneeze.

Opening my eyes, my gaze traveled around my apartment. Pretty much everything looked normal. Even the two swords I had tucked away and partially hidden in the corner seemed to belong exactly where they were. That was surprising at first until I realized that the weapons might be holy weapons but they were designed for the Knights of the Cross to battle in the name of God in this world. They were part of this reality even if they were blessed items. They belonged here. Hence, the not looking out of place.

I shifted my sight until my vision fell on Mouse and Buffy. Neither of them appeared remotely normal. With the influence of the potion, they both seemed to glow with a brilliant halo of white tinted with just a hint of blue. It was almost like they were bathing unharmed in lightning. Unlike viewing Buffy with my Sight, this was just a happy glow without any soul dragging despair.

"Neat-O," I muttered. The effect was cool even if I had no clue how it helped. I explained as much to Bob.

"Bluish white light, huh?" Bob repeated and I nodded. I glanced at the skull and immediately wished that I hadn't. Bob's essence seemed to fluctuate with a grasping blackness that shifted in a dizzying manner to other colors and textures only to return to the cloying blackness before repeating the pattern. His image through the spell made me feel distinctly nauseous and uneasy.

"Makes her a celestial being," Bob explained since he was unaware of the nausea that looking at his black wavering form did to me. I tore my eyes away from the skull and concentrated on the very boring and frayed carpet on my floor. Once I was sure I wasn't going to lose what little I had in my stomach, I returned to topic.

"Celestial... as in stars?"

"No, Harry, celestial as in divine. You know, Heaven."

"She's an angel?"

"I doubt it," Bob replied. "Just means she belongs in Heaven."

Now I was even more frustrated in the this is really a headache kinda way and not in the haven't kissed a woman in a while kinda way. I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. Another quick glance at Buffy showed her now rubbing her head against Mouse's back and hugging him like a lifeline. Mouse was lazing in her arms with his tongue hanging out and an expression of pure doggie bliss on his face. I was suddenly really jealous of my dog. It had been way too long since someone properly petted me. I suppressed a grumpy growl. Now I was both kinds of frustrated and neither was very conducive to finding a solution to Buffy's displacement problem.

"Well, how am I supposed to get her there?" I bit out.

"Well, we could stick to Shakespeare and go with a bit of bitter conduct or a happy dagger. Both would get her where she belongs," the skull helpfully offered.

"Bob, we are not poisoning or stabbing Buffy," I scolded. Have I ever mentioned that Bob is a bit heavy on the moral ambiguity? All that knowledge but no concept of good or evil. It can make him a bit scary at times.

"Anyway, she might belong in Heaven but that isn't really getting her home. She said home was somewhere called Sunnydale California."

"There is no Sunnydale in California," Bob replied in a tone that meant that once again he thought I was an idiot.

"Thanks for stating the obvious Mr. Atlas," I grumbled at the currently unhelpful skull. "We already knew that. What with her belonging somewhere other than here, right?"

If Bob had a real face, he might have had the grace to look embarrassment. As it was, he mumbled an apology and started muttering to himself so rapidly I had no clue what he was saying. I think he might have been speaking in at least two other languages on top of speaking faster than Alvin the Chipmunk on speed. I tried to interrupt him but he just continued to ignore me. Sometimes it really is hard to find good help.

Finally accepting that Bob was going to keep ignoring me until he figured out his own mind, I dropped the skull on the couch and moved across the room. I allowed myself to sneeze like my body wanted and the effects of the spell dissipated. After grabbing a much needed tissue from my overstuffed bookshelf and tossing the remains in the lightly smoldering fireplace, I knelt beside Mouse and rubbed his head. He shifted slightly against my hand and my fingers brushed against Buffy's delicate fingers.

"No luck, huh?" she murmured so softly I could barely hear her.

"That was just a first try," I assured her. I glanced over my shoulder at the still muttering skull. Now he sounded like he was arguing with himself. Great. My spirit of intellect was having a schizophrenic moment. Just what my day needed.

I moved my hand so that it was over the top of Buffy's hand. Hers was dwarfed under mine but it felt warm and pleasantly delicate. I offered her a gentle squeeze as I promised that I would find a way to get her home. I assured her that Bob obviously knew more. He was just processing.

"Maybe we could just go with the dagger option," Buffy whispered as she lowered her head to rest on Mouse's back. "Or maybe the poison. I think dagger-deathage would hurt a lot more. Less pain always a plus for a gal."

I raised my hand to gently touch her hair. Her soft hair slid like silken threads through my fingers. She allowed the tentative caress for only a few moments before Buffy lifted her head. Once again, her haunted eyes were rimmed with tears that she fought to contain.

"Tell me about your home," I prodded softly. I hoped to get her to share just a bit with me. I wanted to understand how she reached this point that seemed even beyond despair. "You never know what tidbit of info might help me get you back," I offered in way of encouragement. I really didn't expect it to help with whatever spell or ritual would be needed to send her back but I figured it might help her mental health at least.

Absently, Buffy continued to stroke Mouse. She finally lifted her eyes again from his back. Green met brown and something that she saw there loosened her tongue. Perhaps she was seeing the same haunted darkness in my eyes that she saw in the mirror. Maybe she really needed to share with someone and an outsider would work best. Maybe she felt the same strange connection with me that I felt for her whenever I was near her. I had no idea. Whatever she saw or felt though, it was enough to allow choppy, emotional words to fall into the silence.

I didn't realize that I was actually only the second person she had honestly shared with since returning from the dead. If I had, I would have felt more smug at getting her to open up.

"It's hard," she admitted. "Hard and loud and filled with people who take and take and take and never seem to care when there is nothing more to give. They just reach out and take some more. And violent. God, Harry, its so violent."

Buffy shuddered and the tears finally escaped. They ran silently down her cheeks. Twin trails of sadness racing to escape from the soft skin of her cheeks to plunge to their end in Mouse's fur.

"Death was my gift. After years of violence and pain, I was finally finished. Complete. Done. It was my gift but now all I do is give my gift away. Over and over in an unending Hell. I was torn from my gift, the place I truly belonged and forced back to the violence and emptiness."

"Buffy... I..." I stammered uselessly. I was just not sure how to reply to her description of home. It truly sounded like Hell. Fleetingly, I wondered why I would ever dream of sending her back to such an awful place. Didn't sound like the type thing one of the white hats would do and unlike Bob and his ambiguous morals, I considered myself one of the good guys. Perhaps it would be better to just decide her home was unreachable. She could stay here. I glanced nervously around my dim cave that I called home. Well, maybe she couldn't stay here exactly. At least not for an extended time. I was sure I could find her some place though that would offer her something other than darkness and pain. Perhaps someplace where she could heal.

"Buffy," I tentatively ventured. "Do you have a reason that you must return to Sunnydale?"

The blonde tilted her head slightly as if the thought of not returning never entered into the possible. She sighed.

"They need me."

She stated it with all the empty flatness of an irrefutable fact. It sounded to me like the warrior woman felt trapped into returning to her previous life. As if she truly had no choice in the matter. Having no control in your own life was a terrible way to live. Without choice, one was little more than a slave to the whim of those who had the control. In that moment, I truly hated whoever her mysterious 'they' were. I've got a fairly developed imagination and I could not envision that her 'they' truly deserved to hold the reins of this shattered young woman.

Unbidden, an image of Buffy in leather reins crept into my minds eye. The unexpected image of the petite blonde lightly restrained in my imagination startled me. My mind normally doesn't jump quite that quickly to the naughty unless a White Court vamp was forcing the matter. Sudden desire to keep Buffy here flushed my body with a surprising heat. I suspected that I blushed. In the wake of my physical embarrassment, I resisted the urge to act like the awkward teenager I sometimes felt like in my head when it came to women.

I quickly withdrew my hand from her vicinity and leaned back on my heels so I was no longer so close to her. I couldn't help but frown. Something was really weird here. Yes, Buffy was attractive and I was a red-blooded American male. Yes, she was in trouble which set off all sorts of overprotective instincts in me. Yes, she could dish out an ass whooping on the bad guys with a ferociousness that I couldn't help but admire. All were big pluses in the Harry Dresden female fascination file. Problem was that the things I felt, the connection, seemed way too intense for someone I just met.

Sure, I believe in lust at first sight but this, something about this was different. Unpredictable and unexpected. Since we have already established how much I appreciate the things I can predict, my mind was going to keep circling my sudden insight like a vulture circling a dead carcass. It was just gonna keep cycling over the thought until I found an answer.

I decided to treat my questions a bit like a scab. Slap a band-aid on it and hope I didn't pick at it too much until I had time to really consider the situation. As it was, I jumped on the first band-aid I could think of.

"You need clothes," I stated in my own impersonation of Captain Obvious.

Buffy responded with a simple nod and I offered her a bit of a smirk.

"I have a friend to check on. He's got more kids than you can count on one hand so I am betting the family can help with a temporary wardrobe."

I stood and offered a hand towards my guest. Buffy slipped her small hand into mine. She offered me a brief flash of a smile which unconsciously drew an answering one from my lips.

"Clothes that fit are of the good," she replied as I pulled her to her feet. "Although I kinda like the scarecrow."

"Well, lets get on the road, Dorothy."

"We're off to see the Wizard?" Buffy inquired as I offered her my coat to keep her warm and cover her too large outfit. I could really appreciate the easy way she changed gears and put aside the recent heavy topic. I should take lessons.

I grinned and shook my head.

"Nah... you already met the Wizard. I think if I had to pick, we're off to visit the Tin Man. His heart may be damaged but he is still the epitome of a good deed doer."

I returned Bob, who was still arguing with himself, to the basement while Buffy shrugged into my duster. After I returned from the subbasement and replaced the carpet, I offered to protect Buffy's piggies out to the car. She nodded and I picked her up after opening the door. Stepping outside, I called to Mouse.

"Well, come on Toto," I called.

Buffy snorted in what I guess was amusement and I grinned in return. Mouse? I think he rolled his eyes at me but at least he followed me to the car. Hopefully, we won't run into the Wicked Witch or flying monkeys on our way.

* * *

><p>Willow glanced nervously at the locked door of the Magic Box. Granted it was after hours but Anya would normally be in the shop closing out the cash register and receipts for the day at this time. A pang of resentment rumbled in her stomach. She had no way of entering the locked store. When Giles had scampered off to England, he had left the store in Anya's care so only the ex-demon and Buffy had keys. The red headed witch looked at her watch once more. Everyone was supposed to be meeting here to discuss Buffy's disappearance in less than fifteen minutes. She glanced at the locked door knob and reached towards it. She gathered some of her will to force the lock open with magic.<p>

"Don't do it," a voice cut across the deepening shadows.

Willow whipped around to glare at the teenager who dared to tell her what to do. Dawn just glared back at the witch with an equally disgusted expression. Willow's attention flitted to the right to read the sad yet determined expression on Tara's face. The disappointment written clearly in the older girl's expression cut at Willow's already shaky emotional state.

The pain from her lost relationship warred with the jealousy she felt about the younger Summers freely spending time with the Tara when she was not able to do so. Anger and sadness trailed on the envy. It was unfair. In fact, the unfairness of it slapped Willow yet again in the face. Dawn had opted to stay in Tara's dorm room for the day instead of returning to the house on Revello Drive to sleep alone. The teen had skipped school since she had been awake most of the night stressing over Buffy's disappearance. With Buffy being missing, no one else was going to say anything against her truancy.

Willow and Tara had needed to attend classes but both had attempted to research ways of finding or returning Buffy in between their responsibilities as students. Neither had yielded any positive results thus the need for an emergency meeting.

Dawn lifted the key to the front door from her pocket and shook them in the air in the general direction of Willow.

"Not everything requires magic," the teen snubbed.

Willow crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back from the entrance.

As the teen jiggled the key in the lock, Willow asked Tara where Anya and Xander were. The quiet Wicca explained that Xander had to work late at his current site and that the shop keeper was attending an emergency meeting called by the Sunnydale Merchants Association. The red head frowned. She couldn't fathom why a group of store owners would need an emergency meeting. When Dawn finally succeeded in working the lock, the angry red head pushed past her.

Willow stomped into the Magic Box ahead of Dawn and Tara. She moved towards the heavy wooden table the Scoobies normally used for research. She was embarrassed that she was caught almost using magic again and she was irritated from the withdrawal from the rush she normally felt when she cast spells. Combining those two feelings with her unease over Buffy's disappearance made her thoroughly unreasonable.

"You would think Anya would have been here instead of off playing entrepreneur," she snipped.

The store door slammed shut.

"Oh yes, I should immediately drop everything in my life to deal with Buffy's emergencies," Anya spat irritably as she too stormed across the store floor. The perky ex-demon had rushed towards the magic shop when she saw the other Scoobies from down the street. She was out of breath but had had been in time to follow Tara into the store. She heard Willow's rude comment. Being Anya, she was not about to pull her punches in her response to the scathing words.

"I should ignore my responsibilities and devote myself utterly to Buffy. Like you did, huh? Of course, you skipped all your classes today, didn't eat, and did nothing but research how to find our missing Slayer, right?" Anya snidely stressed.

Although annoyed at being corrected, Willow could not really refute the other girl's point. The college student had not abandoned her own life because Buffy was missing. She had still taken her political science exam and still enjoyed lunch in the school cafeteria. She had spend some of her free time on her laptop researching theories about alternate dimensions but she hadn't missed a single class. She had even taken the time to re-organize her notes after each one just like she always did. A twinge of guilt pricked at her conscious but Willow quickly smashed it under a superior attitude. The red head was not about to take direction from a former demon.

"What was your meeting about?" Tara asked Anya in hopes of redirecting the normal animosity between the red headed witch and the currently brunette ex-demon. She recognized the tilt of her ex-girlfriend's head and the flash in her eyes. The young Wicca knew Willow was about to become more aggressive. The well timed redirect surprisingly worked and gave the red head a moment to cool the impending nasty words. She didn't want to alienate her ex-girlfriend any further.

With a genuine smile to Tara and her unexpected question, Anya quickly outlined the emergency meeting purpose. There had been four break-ins and thefts overnight at prominent businesses on the main street of town. All the stores had been small, independently owned ones. They were similar to the magic box in size. Damages had been extensive and included shattered windows, overturned stock and destroyed equipment as well as the actual thefts of goods. The electronics store was the worst hit. A book store, an antique dealer and an art gallery were also included in the destructive burglaries. Whoever executed the robberies had disabled all the alarms and been very careful in not leaving any obvious clues for the police. The merchant's group had met with the local police liaison to voice concerns and encourage improved security.

"The Association felt that the level of destruction had to be the result of some of the resident PCP gang members. Everyone knows that Sunnydale's PCP users are mindless machines for destruction."

Willow frowned. Something was off with the vampire explanation.

"What would vampires want with electronics?" Tara wondered aloud.

"Vampires are not the most tech savvy," Willow replied. "They normally make Giles seem computer literate. Fledges are all too busy with the grr hungries and the older ones are too, well, old to really embrace modern technology."

The red head rubbed her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut in hopes of blocking her headache so she could better think.

"Spike can use a computer," Dawn volunteered.

"Spike didn't rob the local electronics shop last night," Tara replied but offered the teen a smile in encouragement for her attempt to offer something useful.

Willow snorted.

"No, he was too busy banging Buffy and watching her disappear to hit the store."

Anya stopped fussing with merchandise and she grinned.

"Buffy and Spike are having sex?" she questioned. Despite the break in news and Buffy's disappearance, the ex-demon smiled cheerfully. "Good for them. Maybe the slayer will be happier with a regular outlet for her frustrations of the non-slaying kind. Buffy always seems to be so sad lately. I am sure good orgasms will make her feel better. They always make me feel better."

The other three women stared at the open minded ex-demon with expressions that ranged from mild amusement to horror. None had a chance to comment though because a clattering from the basement drew their attention. All four females glanced towards the door to the cellar steps and were rewarded with the sight of the noisy culprit.

"Spike!" called out Dawn enthusiastically before suddenly frowning. She had momentarily forgotten she was irked at the vampire. The teen crossed her arms and lifted her chin in a close imitation of one of her older sister's haughty looks. Her sore arm mildly protested the movement.

Ignoring the suddenly cold reception, Spike approached the foursome.

Tara's eyes widened.

"Oh, Spike," she suddenly fussed as she tentatively reached a hand out towards his damaged cheek. The normally sharply cut and smooth cheek sported a ragged gash encrusted with blood and a swollen bruise. Tara didn't actually touch the injury though and withdrew the motion once she realized that the gesture might not be appreciated by the obviously agitated vampire. Even if the blond was kept on a tight set of reins by the behavior chip, his jerking motions and angry glare frightened the young woman.

On closer inspection, the rest of his appearance seemed equally bedraggled. Spike's clothes appeared a bit worse for wear. Tears, dust and dirt abounded. In addition, his knuckles were bloodied. His fingers looked encrusted with dirt and at least one of his fingernails was ripped to the quick. Dark patches had started to form under his eyes that made him look like he hadn't slept in days and his normally pale skin looked almost gray. All in all, he looked terrible.

"Have you eaten or slept today?" Tara hesitantly asked.

Spike frowned at the concern. He had more important worries. Although it was true that he hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours and he hadn't slept in a longer time, he had no time for coddling no matter how much he might have enjoyed the attention on a normal day.

"Any news?" he demanded as he shook off the pitying look and questioning concern. The vampire glanced at each person and his shoulders slumped ever so much with each negative head shake.

The vampire took an unneeded breath as if it actually fortified his body but in truth it was just a residual affectation of life.

"Well, I struck out too. Ripped through Willie's place, left a bit of a mess but no one knows anything. Didn't tell 'em the Slayer was missing though. Just looking for info on human magic users who might be making a stink in the community. Also visited your friend Rack, Red." Spike explained as he nodded towards the silently fuming red-head. "He didn't admit to knowing anything but it isn't like I could force anything out of him. Him being human and all. We had a real nice discussion. Friendly like. After I scared off all his customers that is. And then dug around the old high school for a stupid trophy he wanted for trade on the information."

Tara nodded in understanding. That explained the sad state of the vampire's hands. While they had been going about their normal lives, Spike had spent part of the day digging through huge piles of destroyed building in hopes of securing information to help the Slayer.

Unaware of the white witch's thoughts, Spike continued. He explained that Rack mentioned some folks who might be able to cast something powerful enough to move someone outside of their world. It would obviously take more than a novice to accomplish such a feat.

Again, Spike nodded towards Willow.

"Well, besides Red, your friend Miss Rat was on the list. Also a crone named Irma Beetle. Old lady, lives outside town near Oceanview Cemetery. Mentioned a bloke named Michael Czajak who lives in a dive over on Maple Street."

Spike ticked off a few more names on his dirt encrusted fingers until he reached the end of his list.

"Oh, and that little twerp, the one who made with the 'I'm so special mojo' a couple years ago."

"Jonathan," Anya supplied in an effort to be helpful and included.

Spike offered the ex-demon a tiny nod to acknowledge the name.

"That's a lot of names," Dawn lamented at the nine magic users the vampire supplied.

"Yeah, but only one of them has recently claimed to be Buffy's arch nemesis," Willow supplied as she considered the recent confrontation in the arcade with the three invisibility ray toting nerds. She silently berated herself for not thinking of the three geeks sooner. It was a better starting point than randomly investigating the names Rack supplied.

Taking charge, Willow began giving orders. A few phone calls, a pit stop in the washroom for the dusty vampire, and a trip across town later found the four girls and the vampire standing in front of the Levinson's house. Jonathan's mother was expecting her son for supper and had been only too happy to invite Ira and Shelia Rosenberg's lovely daughter to come for dinner also. The dark street was barely illuminated by the lone street light half way down the block from the modest ranch home.

Resolutely, the five Scoobies marched onto the porch and Willow rang the door bell. When the door swung open, the protective barrier for the house saved the short sorcerer's face and the vampire's head. Jonathan squeaked when Spike shifted into his ridged and fanged game face but it was Dawn who ultimately delivered on the aggression. Her healthy hand streaked forward and slapped across the startled guy's face as the teen shouted accusation.

"Aw man," Jonathan whined as his hand cupped the side of his face. He took a step back from the door and flinched when Dawn moved forward again.

"Per-um-haps words, Dawnie?" Tara prompted as she rested her hand on the dark haired teen's shoulder. The younger girl huffed and crossed her arms on her chest. She glared at the already intimidated magic user but did not raise her hand against him again.

This gave Willow a chance to demand if Jonathan knew anything about Buffy's current predicament.

For a moment, Jonathan looked at his former classmate like she was a fool. He then glanced out the door in both directions as if making sure no one was watching him. The sorcerer then invited the visitors, including Spike who had returned to his human guise, into his parent's house. He shuffled them quickly down the hallway before calling to his mom. He told her he wanted to show Willow something downstairs before leading the whole group down the basement steps to a rather plainly furnished family room. When Dawn once more demanded if he cast a spell on Buffy, Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"Well, duh," he answered. "Of course I did."

The admission led to four feminine accusations of disgust and threats while Spike slipped back into game face. The vampire moved to grab the little twerp but halted momentarily when Jonathan threw his hands in the air in surrender. The motion provided him only a heartbeat's reprieve.

"I did it to save her!" he squealed as Spike's hand closed on his throat.

Despite the rapidly firing chip, the vampire growled and tightened his grip on the magic user. Jonathan began to choke on the words he was trying to share.

"No! No!" shouted Willow as both she and Tara lurched towards the vampire in hopes of preventing the magic user's eminent death.

With his head shaking and his eyes practically rolling back into his head, Spike abruptly released Jonathan. He staggered back a step and sunk to his knees as he gripped the side of his head and howled in pain. The magic user followed the vampire to his knees too. The man's hands flew to his bruised throat and he continued to choke over his words as he reacted to the pain in his neck.

"Suck it up, you big baby," Anya stated as she stepped forward and pulled Jonathan to his feet. "At least he didn't crush your larynx. He totally could have you know. The throat is a particularly delicate body part for humans."

Anya smiled pleasantly at the magic user as she offered her honest statement and Jonathan's dark eyes widened in greater fear. He nervously stepped back from the perky and pretty but very strange young woman. His eyes darted towards Willow. He knew her and figured she was his best bet for surviving his confession. The sorcerer once more raised his hands in hopes of placating his guests.

"I really did, um, do it to help, um, Buffy," he hastened to reiterate.

"Help?" Dawn screeched. "How is making her disappear helping her?"

"Well, it beats Warren killing her," he replied in frustration.

"What?" demanded several voices at once. Jonathan flinched and nervously wiped his palms on his pant legs.

"Look, you know, it was supposed to start off fun," the geek tried to explain. "We would team up and become the rulers of Sunnydale. Like in the comics."

"This is not the sodding funny papers," Spike growled as he levered himself back to his feet. His game face had faded once more and he rubbed the side of his head in hopes of relieving the lingering pain in his noggin. The prolonged firing of the chip was still causing him to see stars.

"I know, but it was kinda fun with the magic and the demon summoning and the gadgets but then... well, Warren... he... he said we had to take out the Slayer if we were going to rule the Hellmouth."

"He had all these plans. You know, the invisibility ray. It wasn't really supposed to hurt anyone but some of his newest ones? They, well, they would hurt people. They would hurt Buffy."

Jonathan raised his lowered head and pleaded with his eyes for understanding.

"I couldn't stop him but I could protect her from him. That's why I cast the spell last night."

"You sent my sister to some hell dimension to save her?"

Jonathan shifted his attention to Dawn.

"No, no. No hell dimensions were involved. I sent her someplace safe for her. Buffy saved my life. I wouldn't send her somewhere she couldn't survive. Why would I send her to some horrid place where they might not even have oxygen? The enchantment I wove was designed to keep her safe. I used an idem quaerere linked with the mutata re."

Dawn and Tara didn't react to the spell information. Although Willow and Spike frowned as they attempted to translate the Latin sounding spells, it was Anya who exclaimed in delight.

"Seek the same and reality shift paired without paradoxical wave? Impressive," she congratulated with an enthusiastic grin. She roughly patted Jonathan on the shoulder. The ex-demon was honestly impressed that the young man had successfully cast a dimensional portal. She glanced at her companions and tried to emphasis just how difficult the spell he designed actually was. "You know that the last sorcerer who tried to open a mirrored dimensional portal was in 1815 in Sumbawa. He failed of course. D'Hoffryn always thought that if the backlash hadn't caused Mount Tambora to erupt and eradicate the portal site that our reality would have been overrun by Others from the Dead Zone. It would have been the end of earth as we know it."

"Um, yeah," the magic user replied nervously. The longer he spent near the strange store keeper, the more uncomfortable she made him. Jonathan suddenly felt a bit nauseous. He hadn't realized the spell he was casting was as dangerous as Anya described. He hadn't realized it could cause natural disasters. If he had known, then he would not have attempted it. He sank onto the couch and waved the others towards seats. "I avoided the whole reality destruction thing by linking the shifts to an inanimate object. I sent the link through the Dead Zone to its destination and the Slayer was pulled directly to the final resting place instead of passing through the zone."

Four pairs of confused eyes centered on the discussion of magic theory.

"So no living matter in the Dead Zone meant no reciprocal backlash?"

Jonathan nodded at Anya.

"Brilliant."

"Um... yeah," the sorcerer preened with pride at the praise but he didn't have the time to enjoy it.

"This is all well and good but how do we get Buffy back from where ever you sent her?" Dawn demanded with obvious frustration.

"Technically, getting back isn't an issue. All Buffy has to do is touch the beacon. The link I send through contains its own trigger and the magic unravels when they are both together and poof, she is back," Jonathan offered with an encouraging smile.

"But how will Buffy know to touch the beacon?" Tara sensibly asked.

Jonathan's face fell. He hadn't thought of that.

Spike cussed.

"You have no sodding clue!" he accused.

Once again, Jonathan flinched from the anger and aggression he was facing. He stammered an apology because he wasn't sure how to fix this new problem.

"Could you send her a note or something?" Dawn suggested. She figured if they could send inanimate things through whatever this Dead Zone was than instructions on paper could be easily sent to her sister.

Jonathan nervously grimaced as he admitted that they could send the note but there would be no way to ensure that she received it. He explained how the linking spell made the person or item sent to the other reality seek its same.

"I did it on purpose," he explained. "I didn't want Buffy to be dropped into a dangerous situation. With the idem quaerere, she should have been plopped in the presence of another hero. A kindred spirit if you will."

"So why can't you send her a note though?" Dawn questioned.

"OH! I know this... I think," Willow responded with excitement evident in her voice as she puzzled out the dilemma. She practically vibrated with the insight. "He could send the note but it would appear with some other note. In someone's mail or on their refrigerator. Note to note. Right?"

Jonathan nodded miserably.

"Well, then just send another person to the reality like you did Buffy," Dawn countered.

"Won't work," Anya stated before Jonathan could respond. "Like to like could send the person to another reality entirely instead of where Buffy is and if you send the person directly to Buffy it would have to be by way of the Dead Zone. Big boom and invading armies of Others." The ex-demon shuddered at the thought of the Others that inhabited the dead zone.

"Wouldn't be much world left for Buffy if she ever got back," she added with a concerned frown.

"So we're left with the retrieval spell you mentioned before, Glinda?" Spike spoke into the silence as they all contemplated their lost Slayer.

"Uh.."

Anya started shaking her head instead of waiting for Tara to properly respond.

"Well, you could if you wanted to destroy the other reality. Remember, big boom? Not to mention, pulling Buffy through the Dead Zone would, well, most likely kill her. Might give us a boom too since we would have to open a doorway into the Dead Zone for her to exit too. Might be big boom on both sides. Although, most likely only on the other side because the Others would probably kill the Slayer before she reached our reality. So then she would be dead and be inert coming through to our side so maybe no gaping hole of doom on this end at least."

"Um, so no retrieval spell," Dawn stated in horror as she stared at Anya who still seemed to find the entire situation more academic than emotional. It wasn't often that the ex-demon had a chance to exhibit her knowledge of spells and magical theory acquired over her extended lifetime. For the moment, she at least seemed to be enjoying Buffy's predicament.

"You said no living thing can go through this Dead Zone without disaster," Spike reiterated.

Both Anya and Jonathan nodded in agreement.

"So what about a dead thing. Or more specifically, an undead thing?"

Anya tilted her head slightly and gnawed on her lower lip.

"Not sure," she finally decided. "Vampires are dead so they are not alive but they are animate so they are not inanimate. I am not exactly sure if it is the animation or the living part that affects the place."

"Can demons travel to the Dead Zone?" Willow asked.

Again, Anya frowned. She just wasn't sure of the answer. No demon in its right mind would seek to enter the Dead Zone. Only something with a death wish on an almost global scale would seek to have anything to do with it. She simply shrugged in response.

With a little prodding from Tara and Dawn, Anya put in the effort to contact D'Hoffryn. He appeared with a bang and a flash in the Levinson family room. After casually chatting about her upcoming nuptials with the ruler of Arashmaharr, the bride-to-be attempted to pick the demon's brain about the Dead Zone. The lower demon confirmed the theory that it was living beings not animated material that interacted poorly with the realm outside of realities. He shook his head at the arrogance and foolishness of the spell casters thinking they should dabble in matters involving Others. For a moment, he considered offering them some guidance but then snorted. He was evil after all. He punished humans not helped them. His reputation would be damaged if others learned that he actively aided the Slayer's companions. In parting, D'Hoffryn only offered the collected mortals a steady glare and informed them not to destroy the earth until after Anyanka's wedding. He said that he invested substantial time and effort into her gift and wanted to ensure that he was able to present it to the couple. In the next moment, he disappeared.

Everyone stared nervously around the room in the wake of the demon's exit. Not unexpectedly, it was Anya who actually broke the silence.

"So we're sending Spike after Buffy?" she stated in support of the only obvious solution.

Tara and Jonathan both glanced at the vampire with expressions of concern and pity but Willow voiced none of their reluctance.

"Into the Dead Zone he goes," the red headed witch replied almost gleefully. She was glad that they found a solution and that only the vampire would be truly in danger from it. Smugly, she considered that it was even better that she was not the one to blame for the problem in the first place and that she had been the one to point them in the direction of Jonathan in the first place. Disregarding the vampire's efforts to gather information all day, she slipped easily into the self congratulation for her accomplishment. She totally missed the real fear her ex-girlfriend was showing on behalf of Spike's trip into the potentially dangerous unknown.

"Well, lets get this show on the road," Spike proclaimed as he stood and rubbed his hands together as if anticipating a great adventure. His bravado covered well his insecurities and only Tara suspected he was anything other than thrilled to be facing the unknown.

* * *

><p>*AN: There really was a horrible volcanic eruption in Sumbawa in 1815. It is arguably the most destructive eruption on record because not only did the direct eruption kill 12,000 people with substantial additional deaths of starvation, injury and disease in the immediate region to total around 71,000. In addition, it caused a volcanic winter that led to the worst world wide famine in the 19th century (European fatalities alone are estimated at over 200,000 from that one year of famine which is well over double the standard at that time and the climate changes actually affected the entire globe so I am sure other continents suffered similar levels of starvation fatalities).

Also, I am aware that the Dead Zone and Others created for the Buffy-verse are called the Outside and Outsiders in Dresden-land. I figure different worlds would have different names for things they really don't know a lot about.


End file.
